


behemoth

by PEGCHANGMIN



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Dreamsharing, Explicit Sexual Content, Human Experimentation, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PEGCHANGMIN/pseuds/PEGCHANGMIN
Summary: Thrown into a labyrinth of dreams and memories, Xiaojun must find his way out.Or: Inception meets Turn Back Time.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Liu Yang Yang/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: NCT Bigbang Round 1





	1. PRELUDE: 0104

**Author's Note:**

> written for nct big bang round 1.  
> for those of you who haven't seen inception, you don't need to have seen the film to understand this fic (but you guys should totally watch it, it's amazing.)  
> a few quick acknowledgements i'd like to make before i begin: 
> 
> a huge thank you goes to the artist that i collaborated with to make this fic, [ve](https://twitter.com/boldmoonwalk)! she made a gorgeous graphic to go alongside the fic, you can view it [here](https://twitter.com/boldmoonwalk/status/1337063336509313025?s=20)! i'd also like to give a big thank you to my beta reader joann <3 massive shoutout to my good friend charlie who listened to all my ideas while writing this fic and who gave me support during the entire process, especially when i wrote about half this fic the night before it was due. final shoutout goes to naja who also beta read through an early draft of this fic, and who is the reason why this fic even exists in the first place. 
> 
> lastly, thank you so much to shreya for hosting this fic fest! this is my first time doing something like this and i had so much fun ^^
> 
> with all that said, please enjoy.

It’s the dead of night when the kidnappings first happen. 

Two men stand in front of a series of prison cells: one with flaming red hair styled into twisting horns, the other with hair as white as snow: the Water and Light Bender, respectively. 

“I’m impressed you were able to gather all seven of them.” The Water Bender remarks, humming to himself. 

The Light Bender snorts, rolling his eyes. “When have I ever failed you?” 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

“What are you planning on doing now? You’ve toppled both Jung and Shim, you’re unrivaled in power. The Leviathan is under your control. What could you possibly want from these seven scraplings?” The Light Bender demands, placing his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think this is a _bit_ too excessive?” 

The Water Bender sighs disinterestedly, looking inquisitively into the distance. “The Leviathan may be … unstable, shall we say. I’m only taking precautionary measures here. Besides,” he vaguely gestures to the seven bodies, “one of them has … potential.” 

The Light Bender scowls. “ _Them?_ General Kim, are you _out of your mind_?” 

“Nonsense. We’re just going to have to give them a little … _nudge_. We’ll just have to push them to their limits, that’s all.” 

“You’re out of your fucking mind. And that’s coming from _me._ ” 

General Kim smiles wickedly. “And I don’t give a fuck. We’re _going_ to win the war, Baëkhyun.” For the first time since the start of their conversation, he glances over towards his accomplice. 

“Commence Operation: Dream Launch.” 


	2. INITIATION: 1000

He dreams in a cream coloured sonata, high up in the clouds, detached from humanity. 

He hears a muffled voice in the distance, a blurry smiling figure laughing at him and gesturing to him to come closer. He tries to run towards the stranger, but his legs are glued in place and he topples over. The figure’s face contorts into one of fear, screaming at him to move, wildly gesturing with his arms in a panicked manner. 

He hears it before he sees it. 

The crescendo of noise, the crest of a wave crouching to prepare for a strike, the potent smell of sea salt permeating the air. He turns around, but it’s far too late —

A wave crashes against him with the force of a tsunami, rendering all senses useless as his vision fills with nothing but the sound of water, a distant scream submerged by the strength of the wave. He shouts back, writhing and grasping into nothingness in an attempt to resurface for air. It’s a futile attempt. 

His vision fades before cutting to black. 

When he awakes, he has no recollection of who or where he is. 

He groans, feeling an incomprehensible amount of pain when he struggles to lift himself off the ground, as if he’s been continuously socked in the gut. There’s a ringing sound pulsating through his head, and he howls, curling in on himself at a particularly excruciating assuage of noise. When the agony subsides, he finds himself gasping on the dirty floor of what appears to be some sort of prison. 

_ What the fuck?  _

He looks around, racking his brain for some kind of explanation as to how he got here, but finds nothing. Everything feels strange and surreal, and he can’t seem to remember anything about himself, aimlessly grasping at straws for some morsel of information. 

He’s sprawled on the floor, grimacing as his vision focuses on the thin layer of grime coating the floor. He presses his palms against the floor in an attempt to push himself upwards, but groans at the subsequent pain, forearms trembling at the weight before giving out, sending him crashing against the floor. 

His screams seem to reverberate against the cold prison walls. 

Everywhere feels sore, as if he’s been beaten up badly and thrown around a room. His face contorts with pain as he attempts to push himself up with his arms again, albeit much slower and cautiously this time. Once successful, he then notices for the first time that he’s lying opposite to a massive glass window, as if he’s an animal on display at some sort of twisted human zoo. 

Upon closer inspection, he can make out a number embossed onto the glass: 1000.

_ 1000? Is that my name?  _ He ponders, eyes narrowing at the numbers in front of him.

_ Where the hell am I?  _

A discordant and distant noise suddenly snaps him out of his trance, the sound of heels against the metal flooring causing him to reel back. The sound increases in volume until a woman arrives at the door of the cell. She’s dressed cleanly in a white dress with red leggings underneath, hair styled back into a sleek ponytail, face covered by a transparent red face visor. Her movements are unnatural as she stands before him with her hands folded together, facial features twisted into a cold, neutral expression. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before, and is enough to cause him to scramble back until his back painfully makes contact with the metal wall. 

“Subject 1000.” She recites mechanically, expression unwavering. “You have been requested. Come with me.” Her voice lacks the natural warmth and cadence of a human’s, only seeming to possess complete apathy. 

Her face is alluring and beautiful, akin to a porcelain doll. Scarily beautiful. Almost too beautiful to be real. 

She presses her perfectly manicured fingers against the digital keypad in a complex pattern until the door to the cell unlocks with a hiss, heels clacking as she enters the prison cell. 

From his angle on the floor she looks predatory, looming over him like an indestructible rival. Subject 1000 silently swallows, heart trembling inside his ribcage as she gestures for him to move. The woman must sense his hesitation because she makes a frustrated clicking sound with her mouth, crossing her arms. 

Her pretty face shifts into a more menacing expression. “Subject 1000.” Her voice is booming and venomous, slowly drawing out each word as if she’s a feral predator with a fresh kill, relishing in the slow death of her prey. “I will not repeat myself.”

Something clicks in his brain — a fight or flight instinct he didn’t know he had — as his body reacts before his mind can, seizing the opportunity. In seconds he’s on his feet and the adrenaline rush is enough to filter out the pain. His heartbeat is pulsating in his throat as he makes a desperate attempt at a mad lunge out of the cell with seemingly no concrete plan: all he knows is that  _ he needs to get the fuck out _ . 

He barely makes it out before black tendrils snake around his waist, tightening before sending him flying back into the cell, body thrown against the metal wall as if he weighs nothing. His body slides down the wall before making impact with the ground, causing him to shriek in agonizing pain. He struggles for breath resting on his forearms, head hung to the floor as he coughs up blood. 

The woman laughs maniacally, fisting the front of Subject 1000’s shirt and pulling him off the floor until their eyes are level. He nearly reels back at the sight of her face, which has contorted into a monstrously malignant visage: she looks inhuman, eyes wide and entirely black, lips curling into a deadly smile, mouth full with rows of sharp teeth. Her arms have turned black as well, claw tipped hands the size of cannonballs tearing into the material of his clothing. 

“You’re a brave yet stupid, stupid soul, Subject 1000.” She snarls sadistically before dragging him down the hallway, paying no attention to the way Subject 1000 screams and writhes in her grip, digging his heels into the ground to no success. 

They arrive in another room, this time entirely black and lit by four long beams of light in each corner of the room. The floor is a mess of wires, ropes of black snaking across the linoleum tiling. Television sets decorate the room, some stacked on top of eachother, others resting alone on wooden tables, all seemingly playing a live feed of the room itself. In the center is a simple black table with two chairs across from one another. On top of the desk is a single lamp. Seven video cameras are pointed towards the table, some on tripods, others resting on television sets. Subject 1000 sucks in a sharp breath, feeling the distinct sensation of a chill running down his spine as the two of them enter the ominous room, yearning for nothing more than to run out of this godforsaken building to anywhere, practically  _ anywhere else _ . 

The woman tosses him into one of the chairs with reckless abandon before taking the seat across from him, uncaring of the wounded noise he makes. She smiles unforgivingly, sticky with venom as her face shifts back to her human form. Her tendrils retreat back into her back, no longer so alien. 

“Now that wasn’t so hard,” She croons, leaning forward, “ _ wasn’t it _ ?” 

Subject 1000 can do nothing but angrily scowl, vile words threatening to spill out from his mouth but never doing so. It’s almost as if there’s a force pressing against his voicebox, preventing him from even speaking. Impossibly, her smile widens. 

“We can begin the trials now.” 

A metal briefcase materializes onto the table in front of them, shiny and metallic. She unclasps it open, only to reveal some sort of complex machine housed inside. Subject 1000’s head is still ringing from the earlier assault so his brain barely can process the image in front of him, desperately trying to stay conscious as he watches the woman’s hands deftly work the machine. Trying to move or even think is currently far too painful. 

“Be a good boy for me and hold still,” her voice suddenly turns distorted and demon-like, “ _ alright?”  _

He can do nothing but watch in horror as she pulls out a long IV line from the briefcase, connected to the strange contraption in the middle. “This will hurt just a pinch,” is the only warning she gives before a needle is inserted into his arm, a button is pressed, and his world goes black once again. 


	3. TRIAL: 1000 1011

Subject 1000 gasps when he awakens, discovering that he’s no longer in the room with the Woman. He’s in front of a glass door, a keypad panel to his right. A sideways glance informs him that there is nothing in the hallway besides the room before him. 

Subject 1000 nervously looks both ways before pressing a finger against the keypad, jumping back when the doors unlock with a hiss. His heartbeat quickens as he peers into the seemingly empty room, what appears to be some kind of abandoned and ransacked insane asylum. The walls are covered in white padding, though have long gash marks across the perimeter of the room, exposing the black fabric underneath. Long overhead light fixtures illuminate the small room, barely suspended to the ceiling on chains, swaying back and forth. 

The lights flicker ominously. 

It’s nothing short of a scene straight out of a horror movie. 

Cautiously taking a step forward, his body goes stiff with shock when the sole of his shoe crunches against something. He looks down against his own will, swallowing around nothing when he discovers that he’s stepped on a mirror shard. The floor is _covered_ in mirror shards of varying sizes, broken into jagged, sharp pieces. 

“ _Hey_.” 

A man seemingly materializes from thin air. He screams, back colliding against the glass door with a _thump_. “Christ, you —” 

A flurry of mirror shards rise from the ground at the command of the stranger’s hand, before sending them flying his way, until they’re but a few millimeters from his face. A bead of sweat slides down his forehead as his heart jackhammers inside his ribcage. He exhales slowly in an attempt to ground himself. The mirror shards are so, _so_ close to him. They could pierce him at any moment, leaving him to die at the hands of a stranger. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” The stranger cocks his head, eyes narrowing. “What are you here for?” 

He’s got messily styled dark blue hair, almost as if he’d run his hands through it in a futile attempt to comb it out. He’s wearing a white suit jacket over a patterned black shirt, both haphazardly unbuttoned to reveal a beautifully chiseled torso, as well as a matching pair of white dress pants. Besides a couple of thick rings on his fingers and a metal cuff, he accessorizes with a series of metal chain necklaces. The stranger is devilishly handsome, but as with the woman from earlier, his expression holds something much more sinister beneath the surface. 

“ _SPEAK!”_ His voice bellows, causing Subject 1000 to nearly black out from anxiety. The mirror shards are now digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks, and it’s enough to make him speak up. 

Subject 1000 innocently raises his palms in the air. “Hey,” he gulps, “please don’t hurt me.” His voice chokes a little, but he forces himself to continue. “I … I actually have no idea where I am, or _who_ I am.” His head falls a little, looking down at the ground. 

The stranger’s face contorts in recognition, softening slightly. “You’re new around here? A new trainee?” His hand relaxes, the mirror shards receding just enough so that they’re no longer digging into Subject 1000’s face. 

“A … trainee?” 

“You’re the last one. They said there were seven of us in total.” 

Subject 1000 slowly lowers his hands as the mirror shards fall to the ground, shattering on impact. “I’m sorry, what?” 

The figure smiles, twirling a mirror shard around with his hands, curiously inspecting it. “Oh, goody,” he says with a frenzied expression on his face, “I didn’t know it would be Christmas already.” He looks like a madman, excitedly approaching Subject 1000. 

“I’m Kun.” He drawls. “And _you_ ,” he points, thrusting his finger forward, “must be _Xiaojun._ ” 

_Xiaojun?_

He takes a step forward, eyes widening in delirious fascination as he takes Xiaojun’s face into his hands. “God, you’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” Kun whispers, runs a fingertip down the side of Xiaojun’s face, as if scrutinizing his features under a microscope. “It’s been _so_ boring around here, all alone. I’ve missed human contact.” Xiaojun is too frightened to move, far too aware of Kun’s mysterious telekinetic powers and not exactly in a rush to be murdered via mirror shard to the throat. 

“How,” Xiaojun’s voice feels weak from lack of use, skittish and timid, “how do you know my name?”

Kun’s smile widens. “Stole your files, read all about you.” He laughs a little to himself, covering his hand over his mouth. “It’s been a _long_ time coming. I really thought you didn’t exist.” Kun then smacks himself on the head, shaking it back and forth. “Oh my, how rude of me.” His grin turns wild. “You must be so confused right now.” 

“Are you going to hurt me?” The words spill out of Xiaojun’s mouth before he can stop himself, and he recoils with fear, body immediately tensing up. 

Kun cups the side of Xiaojun’s face, making what Xiaojun assumes is an attempt at a comforting _shush_. “Oh darling, no need to worry.” His smile turns knife sharp. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you. You’re far too valuable.” 

Xiaojun swallows, unsure if that was meant to be reassuring by any stretch of the definition. 

“Anyways,” Kun clasps his hands together and a chair materializes right beneath him, “shall we begin with any questions you may have?” He asks, sitting down. 

Xiaojun’s eyes comically bug out. “How in the world did you do _that_?” He gestures to the chair in barely contained shock. Kun suddenly stands up, hands gripping the armrests. 

“Oh, you really are fresh meat.” He leans forward, head tilted to one side. “How precious. I forgot what it’s like to experience such raw _innocence._ ” 

Xiaojun bristles with discomfort, but says nothing. He clenches his hands into fists, hoping that the pain of his fingernails digging into his palms will distract the thundering sound of his heartbeat. 

“Well, try to contain your excitement.” Kun happily remarks. “Or your fear.” 

Xiaojun wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but _the room’s walls sliding back and morphing into a completely different room_ was nowhere on his top 10 list. He watches in abject horror and awe as the white padding seemingly melts right off the walls, revealing concrete, rusted metal plating, and dystopian artificial light fixtures on the walls underneath. It feels more akin to an LSD-induced hallucination, yet here Xiaojun is, watching reality unfold before him. The ground trembles beneath them before transforming a massive room, nearly four times the size of Kun’s room, with dim overhead lighting pouring through the roof and ventilation ducts ornamenting the perimeter. 

And there Kun is, grinning like a ringleader of a circus in the midst of it all. 

“My dear Xiaojun,” his voice booms and echoes against the walls, “here is where I believe I tell you that you’re _in a dream._ ” 

Xiaojun feels his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. 

The walls around them creak to the tempo of his thundering heartbeat, the ground beneath them tilting onto an angle as Xiaojun and Kun go tumbling down. 

The dream is collapsing.

“Xiaojun, hey, Xiaojun,” Kun’s right by Xiaojun’s side in an instant, “deep breaths.” 

Xiaojun looks up at Kun, glassy-eyed and shaking. There’s something in Kun’s voice that he’s never heard before and a sudden shift in his demeanor. The cocky, borderline maniacal Kun has been replaced with something softer, more motherly. Something twists inside Xiaojun, like a puzzle piece has been slotted back into place. A voice telling him that it’ll be okay. 

“Take a deep breath with me, okay?” Kun says, and Xiaojun feebly nods. 

“Deep inhale.” 

Oxygen rushes into Xiaojun’s lungs, causing his chest to swell. The walls stop creaking. 

“Deep exhale.” 

The floors shift back to their neutral position. Xiaojun is still shuddering, but Kun’s hands rub soothing circles into his back and help to alleviate the fear. 

“Good job,” Kun says, genuinely smiling for the first time, “you’re alright now.” 

Xiaojun takes a few more deep breaths, unable to process the magnitude of it all. It feels like his brain is playing tricks on him, deluding him into an alternate reality. He wants to find a way to get out, escape all of this, go back to the life he once had. 

Well, if only he knew what his life was even like before. 

“What do you mean we’re in a dream?” Xiaojun finally questions, standing back on his feet with a little help from Kun. 

“Do you remember anything before entering this dream?” 

Xiaojun scrunches his face a little, pouting as he attempts to trace back his steps. “I was in a room,” he says slowly, “there was a briefcase, and then I went under.” 

“A PASIV.” 

“A what?” 

“The briefcase used. It’s called a PASIV, and it allows you to enter dreams. It injects somnacin into your veins. It’s a sedative that immediately knocks you out, and the PASIV does the rest.” 

Xiaojun rubs his hands against his face, suddenly frustrated. A small part of him is excited that this is possible, that what he previously assumed was nothing but a work of science fiction is _real and tangible._ Yet the other side is frustrated, angry, and tired that he hasn’t been able to get any straight answers. Unsure of why he’s even here in the first place, what he must have done to have been subjected what can only be described as torture. He fumbles with words, struggling to string a sentence to verbalize everything that he’s currently feeling. 

“ _Why?_ ” He stammers, baffled. 

It’s the best that he can do for now. 

Kun sheds his motherly persona like a snake sheds its skin, settling back into the cocky and borderline maniacal one Xiaojun’s much more familiar with. It happens so quickly, nearly in the blink of an eye, that Xiaojun wonders which face is Kun’s real one. “Oh Xiaojun,” he says with a _tsk_ , shaking his head. 

“Have you never wondered what it would be like to tap into someone’s dreams?” Kun says with a far away look in his eyes, close enough to Xiaojun that their faces are but a few inches apart. “The endless possibilities of the dream world?” 

He moves back with a jerk, spreading his arms open wide. “Here, there are no boundaries on the ground and the sky is limitless.” 

Xiaojun frowns, lingering on Kun’s first sentence. “Am I in _your_ dream right now?” 

“You can even enter another layer of a dream. _Isn’t that so cool?”_ Kun continues, completely ignoring Xiaojun’s question. 

Xiaojun’s frown deepens. “Why would I do that?” 

“Oh Xiaojun,” Kun’s shaking his head again, “there’s no need to be such a stick in the mud. There’s nothing wrong with being a little imaginative.” 

Xiaojun opens his mouth to respond, but a deep techno bass noise cuts through the silence, reverberating against the walls at a steady tempo. It’s so loud and unexpected that it startles Xiaojun. 

“What does that mean?” Xiaojun worriedly demands, looking at Kun. He’s grabbing onto the lapels of Kun’s jacket, scared to resurface back to reality. 

“Your time is almost up, at least in this dream.” Kun actually looks a little dejected. “Oh, what a shame. I was just getting around to enjoying your company.” 

“Will I ever see you again?” Xiaojun sounds a little desperate, but Kun has been the only one to give him even the tiniest bit of information about what this all is.

“Probably.” Kun’s eyes suddenly turn cold and devoid of emotion. 

“But I won’t remember.” 

Xiaojun’s world goes dark. 

✧✧✧

The Woman is the first thing he sees as he groggily opens his eyes, attempting to adjust back to reality after processing, well —

— all of _that_. 

“Well done, Subject 1000.” The Woman says mechanically, a poised smile on her lips. Xiaojun’s eyes follow her hands as she leans forward and pulls the IV line out of his forearm, watching her deftly work with the PASIV before snapping the briefcase shut. He flexes his arm experimentally, feeling the tension ebb away as his mind registers this as reality. No longer in a dream.

“We’ll continue some other time.” The Woman exclaims. “For now, let’s get you back into your cell.” 


	4. DREAM LOG: 1000

Xiaojun hates it at the facility. 

He spends the first night — at least, what he _perceives_ as the first night — sleeping on the cold, filthy floor, resting his head against the concrete walls. His body still aches with pain, virtually sore everywhere while his stomach angrily grumbles with hunger. Xiaojun passes his time in complete boredom, feeling his brain solely decay away as he lazes around for hours with nothing to keep himself occupied. He’s on the verge of going mad. 

At least they’re kind enough to let him out every few hours for bathroom breaks. 

The bathroom is just as unwelcoming as every other part of the facility, but he takes the time to hastily scrub the grime off his face and body, drinking handfuls of the lukewarm water (which under normal circumstances he’d despise, but under hostage circumstances taste like ambrosia) before the Woman bangs on the door and screams at him to get out. 

He spends most of his time exploring the recesses of his mind, lying on the floor and completely zoning out. Xiaojun thinks about everything Kun said, about the implications of being able to enter into dreams. He thinks about how Kun told him to have a little more imagination.

That makes Xiaojun want to scoff. He has _plenty_ of imagination. He rolls over onto his side when his back starts to ache, curling into a fetal position. Xiaojun despises the way he craves to go back into the dream world, as if something is tugging on his soul, an insatiable desire to learn more. 

He’s had a taste of the forbidden fruit and now he thirsts for more. 

An indescribable amount of time passes before he actually comes into contact with someone besides the Woman. A man he’s never seen before shows up one day. He looks a lot more gentle and comforting than the Woman however, wearing a welcoming expression on his face and a simple white lab coat layered over a black turtleneck and jeans. 

“Hello,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners, cheeks dimpling, “I’m Yixing.” 

Xiaojun’s throat is too parched to respond, so he manages to croak out a noise confirming he acknowledges Yixing’s presence. Yixing unlocks the doors to his cell, stepping inside. 

“C’mon, let’s get you healed and feed you some food.” 

Xiaojun could fucking _cry_ with joy. 

Yixing helps him stand, slinging an arm around Xiaojun’s shoulders and carrying his weight as they walk down the hallway to another unfamiliar part of the facility. This time it appears to be a medical bay. Yixing has him sit down on one of the hospital beds and instructs him to take off his shirt so he can closely inspect his injuries. 

“Oh my gosh,” Yixing exclaims with surprise, “your wounds are a lot worse than I imagined.” 

Distantly, Xiaojun wants to snort and respond with a snarky _“what exactly did you imagine after I got assaulted?”_ but decides to keep his thoughts to himself. Better safe than sorry. Yixing’s hands work seemingly like magic, tending to Xiaojun’s wounds and applying ointment and bandages. 

“Stay here, let me get you something to eat.” Yixing says with another dimpled smile. 

Xiaojun just nods, and it’s only when Yixing starts to walk away that all the pain he’s endured for the past few days seems to hit him with the impact of a freight train. He groans loudly before fear sucker punches him in the stomach and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. 

He’s just so exhausted, physically and mentally. 

Yixing returns a few minutes later with a bowl of porridge and an apple in his hands. “I’m sorry this isn’t that much,” but Xiaojun just shakes his head vigorously and generously accepts the food. He scarfs it down in record time, feeling a little better now that his stomach doesn’t feel like a bottomless chasm. 

“Thanks.” Xiaojun says softly, still paralyzed with fear and anxious to do anything that might incite another round of violence. Yixing seems to pick up on this sentiment, soothingly rubbing a hand up and down Xiaojun’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” Yixing reassures, though Xiaojun has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. So far, he hasn’t met a single person that he trusts: not the Woman, not Kun, and definitely not Yixing. 

Yixing squeezes Xiaojun’s bicep, voice lowering to a whisper: “I’m actually to help you get out here.” 

Xiaojun shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re lying.” His eyes nervously flit around the room for some indicator that this is a trap. “This is a trick. You’re lying.” 

“I’m not, Xiaojun.” Yixing says softly. The way he pronounces his name, the way the word rolls off his tongue reminds him of Kun. There’s a hint of familiarity, but Xiaojun can’t explain why. 

“I can’t explain the specificites at the moment, but just trust me.” Yixing’s eyes hold a warmth and strength that Xiaojun hasn’t felt since arriving at the facility.

Maybe he’s deluding himself, maybe he’s leading himself down into a trap, but fuck it. Xiaojun is so tired. He needs to feel something again besides the deep seated sensation of pain chased down with a shot of fear. 

Fuck it, Xiaojun wants to believe. 

“Okay.” Xiaojun says hesitantly. He looks down at his hands. “I trust you.”

Yixing smiles with an intensity that could rival the sun. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“ _For now_.” 

Yixing nods, grinning now. “You’re smart, Xiaojun.” He stands up, smoothing his lab coat with his hands. “We’ll discuss this at a later date. For now, let’s get you back to your cell.” 

Xiaojun pulls his shirt back over his head, still stumbling when he hops off the hospital bed. Yixing helps him walk back to his cell, looking sympathetic whenever Xiaojun grunts in pain. A surprising wave of dread washes over Xiaojun when he’s settled back into his cell, watching Yixing wave at him before walking away. 

Maybe it’s okay to trust someone else. 

Xiaojun sighs, slumping against the wall with exhaustion. He’ll think about it later. 

✧✧✧

While at the facility, sleep doesn’t come very easy. Whenever Xiaojun manages to get a wink of sleep, his dreams are riddled with strange visions and other things he doesn’t understand. However, one night his dreams turn incredibly strange and feel more vivid than usual. 

Xiaojun falls into deep slumber, and awakes to infinite space. The stars twinkle around him, the only comfort amongst a sea of black nothingness. He blinks, and suddenly he’s enveloped by a ray of fluorescent light. The sheer intensity and luminescence causes him to stagger back, but when he regains focus, he notices a beaming white door in front of him. Xiaojun glances around, frightened by the desolate expanse of space around him, and runs towards the door without hesitation, opening the door and crossing through with little knowledge of what could be awaiting him on the other side. He’s greeted by another flaring beam of light, this time even more powerful and vibrant, so much so that his world is swallowed by bright light, soon replaced by black nothingness. 

Xiaojun shudders awake, surprised when he wakes up in a completely different place. The rolling cosmic planes of space have been replaced by a rather simple looking room. Four walls, cream coloured, covered in posters and decorated with various memorabilia. He looks down and he’s in a bed: a real, tangible, soft-to-the-touch bed. 

_What the fuck?_

His facility attire has been replaced with a soft maroon coloured sweater layered over a blue t-shirt. Xiaojun slides his hand down the fabric in wonder, shocked at how luxurious the material feels under his fingertip. It’s a far cry from the vest and cargo pants he’s usually forced to wear. 

However, what catches him off guard the most are the voices. It’s not the shrill sound he’s used to from the facility, but rather — 

“ — Dejun!” 

He turns his head, following the sound. A bright eyed individual is running into his room with a shocked expression plastered all over his face. He looks worried, _relieved_ , almost. Xiaojun doesn’t recognize him at all, but his brain supplies him with a name. 

_Yangyang._

Yangyang is beautiful. Xiaojun blinks, feeling as if all the air has been sucked out of his lungs, almost as if Yangyang’s beauty sucker-punched him in the gut. Soft brown hair tucked under a red beanie that Xiaojun yearns to touch, a gorgeously sculpted face with gentle smiling features, all bundled in a yellow hoodie that’s most likely Xiaojun’s. Inexplicably, the deep seated sensation of comfort settles at the bottom of his stomach as well, an indescribable moment of catharsis for a stranger he’s never met. 

“Dejun!” Yangyang exclaims, eyes wide. “Dejun, _is that really you?_ ” He sounds disbelieving on himself, reaching forwards to touch Xiaojun as if he was nothing but a projection, a mirage. 

_Do I know you?_

“Yangyang.” Xiaojun croaks. “Yangyang, it’s me.” 

Yangyang’s hands move to cover his mouth, eyes widening and on the verge of spilling with tears. He shakes his head in an attempt to see the truth, as if to clear his mind. Yet nothing changes, Xiaojun is still in front of him, propped up on his forearms on the bed. 

“ _Christ, Dejun,_ ” Yangyang smacks Xiaojun on the side, not hard enough to inflict pain but still cause Xiaojun to yelp, “you scared the living shit out of me when you left.” He sighs, running a hand over his face, and for the first time Xiaojun can see just how exhausted he is. Underneath the surface is a tired, broken man. 

“I missed you so much.” Yangyang murmurs, under his breath. There’s an unspoken _please don’t ever do that again_ trailing behind his words. 

“I missed you even more.” Xiaojun replies, but his mouth moves involuntarily, feeling like another entity has control over his body. It’s a surreal feeling, and Xiaojun wonders if he’s reliving a past memory from another life — or perhaps, the life he could’ve lived before ending up at the facility. He feels as if he’s witnessing it all from an outsider’s perspective, despite the fact he’s trapped inside his own body. 

It’s enough to make Yangyang relax and jump into Xiaojun’s arms, belly flopping onto the bed. Inexplicably, Xiaojun smiles, chest filling with warmth and affection. He opens his arms to embrace Yangyang into a hug, fisting his hands into the soft fabric of Yangyang’s hoodie. Yangyang smells like a fragrant mixture of warm vanilla and fresh linen, burying his face into the crook of Xiaojun’s neck. 

Yangyang smiles, but there’s a twinge of sadness to it. “Hey, I’m glad you’re safe now.” 

_What did I do?_

Xiaojun just nods, tangling a hand in the hair at Yangyang’s nape. An exhale. 

“I’m really sorry for putting you through all that.” He reassures, even though he isn’t sure what exactly for. Yangyang further melts into Xiaojun’s touch, humming softly against the column of his neck. His hands migrate down to the hem of Xiaojun’s sweater, grasping the wool fabric. 

“Maybe …” Yangyang drawls, “we should make up for lost time?” Yangyang grins, something filthier hidden beneath. 

A flare of heat, unlike anything Xiaojun’s experienced, sizzles down his spine, a familiar warmth pooling at the bottom of his stomach. He stifles a moan he didn’t know he was holding within, throwing his head back slightly as Yangyang presses kisses down his neck. 

“Fuck, Yangyang, _please_.” Xiaojun gasps, falling back on to the bed. Yangyang’s palms feel like scorching fire as they push his sweater and t-shirt up and over his head, hastily throwing the garments of clothing onto the floor. They fall into a rhythm, two lovers reuniting and dancing the same waltz they used to so long ago. Xiaojun’s eyes slip shut as Yangyang’s mouth slides down his torso and sucks bruises into the planes of his chest. Yangyang laughs, playing with the belt loops on Xiaojun’s slacks. 

“You bulked up while you were gone.” He runs his hands over Xiaojun’s pectorals, squeezing at the added muscle in his biceps and shoulders. Yangyang’s voice falls to a whisper, as if sharing a tender secret. “You look really good.” 

Xiaojun flushes, looking away, too embarrassed to hold eye contact. “Shut up.” 

Yangyang just grins some more before undoing the button at the front of Xiaojun’s slacks, pulling the zipper and tugging off his pants and underwear. Xiaojun flushes some more at the feeling of being completely naked while Yangyang is fully dressed, the sensation of being scrutinized under Yangyang’s watchful gaze. Yangyang wraps a hand around Xiaojun’s equally flushed cock, hardening as he pumps up and down a few times before reaching over to the nightstand to fetch lube and a condom. 

“Multitasking,” he says with a wink. Xiaojun bites down on his lip, holding himself back from firing back with an equally petty comment. Besides, the sight of Yangyang pushing a lubed finger into Xiaojun is enough to cause his brain to cease function temporarily. 

“ _Fucking finally,_ ” Xiaojun mutters, voice gasping into a moan at the end. 

“Patience, my lovely Dejun.” Yangyang retorts, right as his fingers press against Xiaojun’s prostate, causing Xiaojun’s voice to crescendo some more, nothing but the sound of his pretty moans and the squelch of Yangyang’s fingers sliding in and out filling the deafening silence. Xiaojun grinds down against Yangyang’s fingers — three of them now inside him — fucking himself in tempo to Yangyang’s movements. 

A salacious piano duet. 

Xiaojun is so desperate, it’s been so long since he and Yangyang have done this, _they’ve been apart for so long._ Begging isn’t even beneath him anymore, as he sobs for Yangyang to replace his fingers with his cock, to impale and split him in half, to show him who he belongs to, make him feel Yangyang inside of him for days and limp when he walks. Xiaojun babbles nonsense until Yangyang finally slides his fingers out, causing him to whine at the lack of feeling full. 

“ _Fuck._ ” Yangyang audibly swears, having to take a second to himself, shutting his eyes. “ _Christ Dejun,_ where’d you learn to have such a filthy mouth like that?” He tears open the condom packet with his teeth, sliding it down his cock with practiced ease. 

“You ready babe?” Yangyang asks with a smirk as Xiaojun’s thighs instinctively part to give him more room. 

“I’ve been ready this entire time,” Xiaojun snarks back, hands moving to grab handfuls of Yangyang’s ass. Yangyang grasps Xiaojun’s hips, slowly aligning himself with Xiaojun’s entrance. He cants his hips forwards, pressing the tip of his cock against Xiaojun’s hole, sliding it in just enough to make Xiaojun squirm and whine with want. 

“You _motherfucker,_ get your cock into me,” Xiaojun demands as Yangyang fully pulls out before thrusting back in with a growl, fingers digging into the curve of Xiaojun’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. Xiaojun lets out a pathetic squeaking noise when Yangyang fully bottoms out, eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure. “ _God, yes_ —”

Yangyang has a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face as he fucks into Xiaojun with carnal desire, not even attempting to hold himself back. Xiaojun loses himself to the euphoria, squeezing his eyes shut as his mouth softly parts into a moan, focusing on all the delicious sensations occurring all at once: Yangyang’s hands holding onto his thighs and spreading them apart, cock sliding in and out of his hole. Yangyang’s whispering filthy words back to him, describing in detail how good Xiaojun feels, how tight he is, how much he missed being able to do this to him. 

Nirvana must feel like Yangyang stuffing him full and splitting him open with his cock. 

“Yangyang, I’m not going to last,” Xiaojun says with a flush, gasping as his Yangyang presses a kiss against his collarbone before biting a bruising mark there, almost as if to lay claim. 

“Don’t worry, I’m close too.” Yangyang responds, mumbling against Xiaojun’s skin. “It’s been so long, I knew I wasn’t gonna last that long.” He says with a breathless laugh. 

“You didn’t fuck anyone else while I was gone?” Xiaojun jokes dryly. 

Yangyang suddenly stops, gaze turning sharp. Xiaojun whines, trying to fuck back down but Yangyang’s vice-like grip holds him in place. 

“Dejun. No one can compare to you. No will ever replace you: your brilliance, your beauty, your wit. No one even comes close to you.” 

Xiaojun stares up, starry-eyed. “Yangyang —” 

“I haven’t fucked anyone else since we started our whole,” he gestures vaguely with his hands, “friends with benefits arrangement.” 

Xiaojun chokes on his words, this time not from pleasure, but rather from the sensation of feeling utterly overwhelmed by affection, a feeling he’s come to associate well with Yangyang. 

“Me neither.” 

That’s all Yangyang needs to dive back in, fucking Xiaojun like his life depends on it, as if his existence is solely fueled off of Xiaojun moaning and screaming his name. 

“You’re mine,” Yangyang growls, “you’ve always been mine.” 

The comforting dream is suddenly intercepted with an image of a room covered in graffiti and scribbles, a sharp ringing noise cutting through the silence. Someone's screaming, running towards Xiaojun, but he can't make out what his face looks like. Xiaojun tries to reach out for him, but stares wide eyed in horror as the man slips, falling back into eternal darkness before his senses are assaulted by a flash of neon. 

Xiaojun awakens with a jolt, with a force so intense that he experiences whiplash. He topples onto the floor, eyes zoning in on a smudge of dirt on the wall in front of him as he attempts to make sense of _what the fuck_ he had just woken from. Xiaojun fists his hands into his vest to ground himself, brain simultaneously functioning at the speed of a bullet train and yet completely empty. 

His chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm, unable to shake the visceral, cosmic, erotic feeling of being impossibly in love. 

Being impossibly in love with _Yangyang,_ a complete stranger that Xiaojun has no recollection of ever meeting. 

Xiaojun curiously looks down at his crotch, only to discover in horror that he’s half erect and tenting against the uncomfortable cargo pants he’s been forced to wear. He groans, head falling back against the ground. Before he can attempt to conjure up some unappealing images in his mind to will away the stiffness in his pants, he’s startled again by the sound of his glass doors opening with a hiss.

“Subject 1000.” He hates the sound of her voice. “I hope you slept well.” The Woman looms over him like an immovable force. 

“It’s time to start our trials again.”


	5. TRIAL: 1000 1011 111

Xiaojun is less nervous when the Woman inserts the IV into his arm, but he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to how bizarre it feels to enter into a dream world that isn’t entirely his. 

He’s back in Kun’s dream, though strangely, nothing’s seemed to change. Xiaojun frowns, looking around. 

_ Must get awfully boring being stuck in the same dream.  _

Xiaojun hears a noise behind him and he spots a creature slithering into the darkness but can’t quite catch what it looks like. His frown deepens, choosing to ignore it as nothing but a red herring, repeating his actions from the last trial by unlocking the keypad and watching the glass door in front of him slide open. Kun’s sitting down in a corner, his back facing Xiaojun as he turns a shard of mirror around in his hands. 

“Kun!” Xiaojun nearly trips from running over to him. “Kun, it’s me!” 

Kun head turns around, a flurry of mirror shards suddenly levitating off the floor. He sends one flying towards Xiaojun and experiences deja vu when it's pressed against the column of his neck. 

Kun’s face twists with confusion, standing up on his feet. “ _ Who are you? _ ” 

Kun's words echo in his ears.

_ Will I see you again? _

_ Probably. But I won't remember. _

Xiaojun’s heart plummets and his blood runs cold. “Kun, it’s me, Xiaojun.” 

The mirror shard doesn’t budge. “How do you know my name?” 

“What? No, Kun, do you not remember the last time we met?” Xiaojun gestures to himself. He’s starting to get impatient, trying to understand why Kun can’t remember him. “It’s me, Xiaojun.” 

“ _ Xiaojun? _ ” Kun says in disbelief, shaking his head. 

The shards drop to the ground, shattering. “I thought you were a myth.”

Xiaojun sighs frustratedly. “Do you really not remember  _ anything _ ?” His voice is on the verge of pleading. He’s tired of having to play all these mental games. 

“No?” 

“You told me last time about the PASIV, about,” Xiaojun stammers, searching for something to try and crack Kun’s memory, “about the possibilities of entering a dream within a dream. You completely altered the room’s appearance, you —”

“Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kun says with a shrug. “Can’t help you there.” 

Kun’s expression shifts into something more lethal. 

“However,” he grins, “you want to try entering a dream within a dream?”

“What?” Xiaojun is stunned. “No, that was the complete opposite of what I was trying to say! That was the least important part of everything I just said!”

Kun raises an eyebrow, cocking his head slightly. “You’re not even remotely interested?” 

“Listen,” Xiaojun massages his temples, “don’t you want to ask who I am? So you know I’m trustworthy?” 

Kun steps forward, crowding into Xiaojun’s space. “Oh darling, I know  _ everything  _ about you. Read your file and all. Besides,” a flurry of mirror shards rise on command, forming a sphere around the two of them, “I’m not the one who’s looking for people to trust me.  _ You  _ should be.”

Xiaojun exhales. “Okay.” He can’t deny that he’s a little interested in learning more. “Tell me how this works.” 

“Oh it’s bloody simple. Works the same as it does in the real world. You just need a PASIV.” His hands work like a magician, and suddenly the mirror shards transform into a PASIV right before Xiaojun’s eyes. “On the floor.” Xiaojun complies, lying down as Kun flips the briefcase open, going through the same ministrations as the Woman. 

Xiaojun frowns, looking up at Kun as he inserts the IV into his forearm. “You know how to work this?” Kun shrugs.

“There are some things that just stick forever. Just be back before the kick.” 

“The kick?” 

Kun smiles and Xiaojun can’t tell if it’s bordering on motherly or condescending. “You’ll only have a limited amount of time in this dream, so I’ll shake your body like this,” he demonstrates, grabbing Xiaojun’s shoulders and vigorously shaking, “to wake you up in time.” 

“Okay,” Xiaojun says, despite still being unsure, “I think I get it.”

“There will be a noise, a loud booming bass that’ll signal when the kick is coming. Just be back when I give you the kick, and don’t get lost down there.”

Xiaojun’s only left with more questions, but nods one last time before somnacin enters into his veins and he immediately falls asleep. 

✧✧✧

Waking up in a car is certainly a change of pace. 

They’re driving through a sea of endless white brightness when Xiaojun awakens in the back seat, peering around at his surroundings. 

“Hey, where are we going?” Xiaojun calls to the driver up front, but frowns when he doesn’t respond. “ _ HEY! _ ” Just as he’s about to lean forward and tap on the driver’s shoulder to grab his attention, the car suddenly jerks forward, sending Xiaojun painfully falling back against his seat. 

The car speeds forward as thunder rumbles in the distance, black clouds manifesting themselves out of thin air. Outside has suddenly turned dark and the car seems to be driving down a lone strip of white road. The thunder crescendos and suddenly the clouds are enveloping the car, like an amorphous parasite leeching onto the back of the metal vehicle. 

Xiaojun wants to scream, but he doesn’t know what good that would do. 

Lighting slices through the darkness like a blade, so bright that it blinds Xiaojun, immersing his vision with nothing but white. 

The clouds part to reveal sudden darkness as the car slows down to a halt. 

“Your stop. Get out.” The driver’s voice is gruff, unlocking the door but never turning his head around so that Xiaojun can get a good look at his face. Xiaojun quietly thanks him before stepping out, watching the car speed back into the darkness behind him. 

The sound of heels clacking against metal flooring causes a chill to creep up Xiaojun’s spine, fear spiking as he runs through the darkness blindly until he finds himself behind a tall column. Peering behind cautiously, a rich scene spills out in front of him, akin to a television being turned on. His eyes widen at the sight: lengths of metal chain snake the room, criss-crossing one another, some dangling from the ceiling. They bisect in the middle, tightly wound around a metal throne, constricting around the man sitting on it. Xiaojun sucks in a breath as the sound increases in volume. 

“Subject 111.” The voice croons, coming to a stop. She looks identical to the Woman yet her voice is a semitone off. Subject 111 looks up at her, stone cold. 

“It’s Winwin.” He responds gruffly, tugging on the chains that bound his wrists. “Not Subject 111.” 

Winwin is — ethereally beautiful. A petite face, gorgeously sculpted, a pouty mouth and wide eyes. Despite this, he looks hardened by pain. Short cropped hair, a slit running through one eyebrow. A stony cold facade to an otherwise otherworldly visage. 

The Woman has a metal tray in her hands. On it sits a glass of water and two pills. One yellow, the other blue. 

“So, what will your decision be? Will you take the yellow pill, or the blue one?” 

Winwin scowls. “Neither.” He still manages to look breathtaking. 

The Woman tuts, shaking her head back and forth a little. “You’re going to have to crack eventually.” 

“Not  _ today _ .” Winwin snarls, surging forward and tugging on his restraints. “ _ Never. _ ” 

The tray disappears from the Woman’s hands as she takes a step forward, smacking the side of Winwin’s face with her hand. The sound of skin-to-skin impact is painful, reverberating against the walls of the room as Winwin shouts with pain. 

“Better if you kept quiet next time.” She says, face calm and reserved as Winwin glares up at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The Woman walks away with a flurry, disappearing into the inky darkness. Xiaojun exhales, hands covering his mouth as he processes what he just witnessed. 

“I know you’re there.” Winwin grumbles, startling Xiaojun. “Hiding in the shadows does nothing. Show yourself.” 

“Winwin, right?” Xiaojun tentatively steps out into the light, watching as Winwin’s eyes scan over his body, assessing him. Winwin’s eyes narrow. 

“Who are you?” It’s more of a demand than a question. 

“Xiaojun. I’m a,” he echoes Kun’s choice of words, “new trainee. I met Kun.” 

Winwin’s eyebrows pinch together at the name. “Kun?” 

Xiaojun’s heartbeat picks up. “You know him?” 

“His name is familiar, but I can’t recall why.” 

“Oh.” Xiaojun’s face falls. 

“Get out of here. Get out of here before it’s too late.” Winwin warns. “Get out of here before you end up like me. Reliving my worst memory, over and over again.” He tugs at his chains to emphasize his point. 

“What are they doing to you? Why?” 

Winwin sighs. “Maybe it’s better if I show you.” 

The floor begins to escalate downwards like an elevator, the chains wrapped around Winwin beginning to unfurl until he can stand up. When they reach the bottom, they’re greeted by a cream coloured room. A bed tucked into one corner. Posters on the walls, memorabilia lining the small shelf next to the bed. Xiaojun looks back at Winwin in disbelief, remembering his visions with Yangyang. Winwin’s face reveals nothing in response. 

A stranger that walks into the diorama looks straight out of a 90s sitcom: he’s wearing a scratchy orange knit vest over a blue and yellow plaid shirt, accessorizing with a brown newsie cap and black wired headphones. Similarly to Winwin, he’s unfairly pretty, dainty features and a perfectly sloping nose immediately catching Xiaojun’s eye. 

“ _ Sicheng.”  _ He seethes, pointing his finger at Winwin and walking straight towards him. “How  _ could you _ ?” The expression on his face is pained, on the verge of tears. 

“Ten, listen —” 

“ _ No. _ ” Ten snaps. “I’m sick of your lies and bullshit. You  _ sold us out. _ ” 

Winwin looks desperate. “Ten, I did it to keep us safe. You have to believe me.”

Ten scoffs, looking over at Xiaojun. “You hear this guy? Going on and on about how he did it to ‘save us all’.” He says mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Do you want to know what he  _ actually _ did?” 

“Ten,  _ please _ .” Winwin begs, but his words fall to deaf ears. 

“Really, forming an alliance with the Red Force behind all of our backs was your master plan, huh?” Ten snaps. 

“Ten, we failed our last job. Our employers were going to murder us. I had no choice!” 

“Well, the  _ Red Force  _ are going to track us down and  _ kill  _ every last one of us once they know what we’re able to do. Either that or we’re going to turn into their brainless mind slaves.” A tear rolls down his cheek this time, betraying the angered expression on his face. “ _ Fuck you, Sicheng.  _ You compromised the safety of the entire team.”

Xiaojun frowns in confusion.  _ The entire team? _

Ten throws his arms into the air. “And guess what, I’m inevitably going to to get us out of this shitshow you’ve created.  _ As always. _ ” He walks over to sit on the bed, burying his face in his hands as tears stream down his cheeks. 

“I haven’t told Kun yet, but I can’t imagine how hurt he’ll be.” Ten mutters, voice cracking. 

_ Kun.  _

Xiaojun nearly gasps at the implication. 

_ Winwin knows Kun from a past memory.  _

“Ten, I’m so sorry.” Winwin’s voice is barely a whisper. When Xiaojun finally looks over at him, he notices that he’s also crying, pretty features twisted into a sob. 

“Why did you show me this?” Xiaojun asks quietly, heart in his throat. 

Winwin’s gaze darkens, expression hardening. “I didn’t choose to show you this.” 

The familiar sound of the synthetic techno bass booms in the background, this time much slower and more muffled than when Xiaojun was Kun’s dream.  _ The kick.  _

“You’re watching me relive a predestined routine.” Winwin says as the world begins to shake around them. 

✧✧✧

“Hey, I got you.” Kun says when Xiaojun resurfaces, eyes blown wide. 

“Kun — Kun, I saw Winwin. Sicheng.” Xiaojun says panicked, grabbing onto Kun’s arm. “You have to know him, you were right there in his memory.” He’s stumbling over all his words but he doesn’t care. This is the first lead he’s gotten and he’s determined to make sense of everything. 

“Sicheng?” Kun says slowly, frowning. “No, I don’t know who that is.” 

“Ten!” Xiaojun stammers, trying again. “You have to know Ten, he mentioned you by name!” Xiaojun pleads, nearly shouting. His face falls as Kun shakes his head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The bass thunders even louder. “Your time’s almost up anyways, there’s nothing I can do.” 

“Kun,  _ please you have to answer me _ —” 

✧✧✧

The PASIV diffuses with a hiss when Xiaojun wakes up to reality. He’s never felt so frustrated nor longed for just a few more minutes inside his dream —  _ he was so goddamn close _ . The urge to slam his fists against the table is at an all time high, but he manages to hold himself back. 

Seeing the Woman no longer fills him with fear, just deep seated resentment as she smiles mechanically back at him. 


	6. DREAM LOG: 1000 1010

“We’re getting a new recruit.” Kun states one day after gathering the rest of their rag-tag team of dreamshare criminals together. “Our forger dropped out at the last minute and we need a replacement for the Lee Sooman job.” 

Ten grumbles, eyes narrowing. “I told you Junhyung was a piece of shit, you wouldn’t listen to me.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Who are we recruiting?” 

“Liu Yangyang.” 

Xiaojun freezes, exclaiming “ _ Liu Yangyang? _ ” at the exact same time that Ten responds with “ _ Kun, you’ve got to be kidding. _ ” 

“Yes, Liu Yangyang. No, I’m not kidding.” 

“Liu Yangyang, as in,  _ the Liu Yangyang I knew from architecture school? _ ”

There was always a part of him that wondered what happened to Yangyang when Xiaojun decided to fully immerse himself in the dreamshare business and officially drop off the face of the earth. It pained him to have to do that to Yangyang, leave without a trace and never be able to see him again. But that was the choice he made, and something he still stands by. 

He heard rumours awhile back about a Yangyang emerging in dreamshare, a fresh-eyed forger with a knack unlike anyone else in the industry, but always refused to believe it was  _ his  _ Yangyang. After all, Yangyang was pursuing a career in music. 

Why would he end up turning to illegal dreamshare? 

Kun rolls his eyes. “Dejun, I don’t care if you two used to be fuckbuddies. He’s good at what he does, and he’s going to help us complete this job.” 

“Qian Kun, you are  _ out of your mind _ . We’re not recruiting a newbie for the most important job of our careers.” Ten retorts, angrily gesturing with his hands. 

“He’s been in the dreamshare business for a year. 

“And we’ve been doing this for half a decade together.” Ten snaps back. “Same with Sicheng.” He says, pointing to the chemist working alone in a corner of the warehouse they’re using at their makeshift headquarters, quietly listening to their conversation. “Dejun joined our team three years ago. Yukhei’s only been here for a year but his years of experience far outnumber that.” Ten’s lip curls into a sneer. “So yeah, compared to us, he’s a complete  _ fucking newbie. _ ” 

Kun sighs. “We still have a couple months to prepare for this job. It’s plenty of time to train him.” 

Ten scoffs. “I’ll be the judge of that. When’s he coming in?” 

Kun checks his watch. “Two hours.”

“Jesus Christ, Kun.” Ten mutters, massaging his temples. 

Xiaojun abruptly stands up from his chair, walking over to where Kun hunched over at a table. looking at blueprints. “Kun-ge, are you sure there weren’t any other options?” He asks, lowering his voice to a whisper. 

“Dejun, your relationship history is the last of my concerns when recruiting new members.” Kun says finally, looking up at Xiaojun. His eyes are narrowed behind his wire-frame glasses. “Unless there’s no way the two of you can work together, he’s joining the team.” 

When Xiaojun is unable to respond, Kun looks satisfied. “Good. Now let’s get back to working on the first level of the dream.” 

Yangyang shows up exactly two hours later, frustratingly punctual. 

God, what a sight for sore eyes.

_ Nothing’s changed,  _ Xiaojun thinks to himself, but clearly, many things have. He’s no longer the scrappy second year drama major with a frat boy sense of style and chocolate brown hair a touch too long. Yangyang fills out his pale blue button up shirt beautifully, the fabric stretching over the expanse of his chest. The skinny black tie adds a hint of maturity but still remains youthful. His hair is cropped shorter, copper strands falling over his eyes. 

Xiaojun digs his hands into his palms, resisting the urge to fuck Yangyang against the nearest wall. He feels like a horny college student all over again, not a world renowned dreamshare architect. 

“Hey guys.” Yangyang smiles wide, before glancing over and smirking at Xiaojun. “Hey Dejun.” 

“Hi, Yangyang.” Xiaojun responds, offering a small yet awkward smile. 

Ten looks a bit grumpy, but the rest of the team seem pretty excited to meet him. Kun greets him with a confident handshake and slap on the back. “Welcome to the team.” 

Yangyang matches his level of confidence. “Thanks. I’m glad to be here.” 

✧✧✧

After meeting Kun and Winwin, Xiaojun can’t stop dreaming about Yangyang. It’s as if he’s permeated every crevice of his mind, constantly lingering in his thoughts even when he’s awake. Yangyang has imprinted himself onto Xiaojun’s existence. 

Despite this, Xiaojun finds himself looking forward to falling asleep and dreaming. He doesn’t have much else to do at the facility when he’s not hooked up to a PASIV or talking to Yixing, so he spends as much time as he can dreaming. Besides, his dreams offer a peephole into what his life used to be like (at least, he’s pretty sure they’re memories) and he slowly pieces together a coherent timeline, as well as his connections to Kun and Winwin. There’s a few other recurring characters in his dreams — Ten, who he saw in Winwin’s dream too and Yukhei — but Xiaojun doesn’t know an awful lot about them yet. 

After a while, things start looking up for Xiaojun. He eventually gets a bed, which is nice. It’s far too stiff and possesses a strange musty smell, but it beats out having to sleep on the floor by a marathon of a margin. Xiaojun has never been more elated. On the downside, his wounds don’t seem to be healing all that much, but he can’t complain either. Hanging out with Yixing and conversing with him as he tends to Xiaojun’s wounds is considered priceless. 

“Hey, I have something cool to show you.” Yixing says one day, eyes glittering.

“Okay.” Xiaojun says between mouthfuls of the sandwich Yixing brought him. He suddenly frowns. “Hey, am I going to get in trouble for this?” 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’re with me.” Yixing reassures, tacking on a wink at the end. 

Xiaojun’s shocked when Yixing’s surprise turns out to be an old boxing ring in an abandoned sector of the facility, which clearly hasn’t seen use in a while and is in the process of decay. Regardless, Xiaojun is wide eyed, taking everything in at once. It’s nothing special, but is a sight for sore eyes in contrast to the uninspiring and cold visual aesthetic of the rest of the facility. 

“Holy cow,” Xiaojun mumbles, turning to face Yixing, “why do they have a boxing ring here?” He runs his hands over the frayed rope that stretches along the perimeter of the boxing ring. There must’ve been fabric once wrapped around the rope, however it’s now all torn and shedding. Xiaojun strangely finds comfort in it all. 

Yixing shrugs. “It was most likely part of an old training center. They must’ve dismantled it before I started working here.” He hops into the ring, sitting down in the center and patting the empty space next to him. “C’mon, join me!” 

“So, what’s been going on with you lately?” Yixing asks cross-legged, resting his chin on his palm. Xiaojun shrugs, sitting down beside him. He’s definitely got a lot on his mind. 

“Are you gonna snitch if I tell you?” 

Yixing presses a hand to his chest, looking mock-offended. “Absolutely not. I would never.” 

Xiaojun exhales a puff of air, looking down at his shoes. “I don’t even know where to begin.” 

“Wherever you’re most comfortable.” 

“Well,” Xiaojun says slowly, thinking about what to say, “I’ve been seeing recurring people in my trials by entering their dreams. Well, there’s two of them that I’ve met so far. And they showed up in my dreams, along with some other people that I don’t know, but they’re all linked. It’s all confusing to me.”

Yixing hums thoughtfully, his expression indecipherable. “What are their names?” 

“I’ve been entering Kun and Winwin’s dreams. But in my dreams, there’s also a Ten, a Yukhei, and some other guy. They all know each other, and they all somehow know me. I’m also starting to have suspicions that my old job involved dreaming. For what reason, I still don’t know.” His eyebrows furrow together in thought. “I’ve just been trying to piece everything together, decode out this never-ending enigma.” 

“Maybe you just need to spend more time in their dreams. Try asking them questions.” Yixing says after a while. “They may be able to give you answers. You just have to probe at them to let their inner tiger escape.” 

Xiaojun sighs. “They’ve been pretty tight-lipped so far.” 

“Maybe you should go deeper into the dream.” 

Xiaojun frowns. “Is that possible?" 

"Yeah. It is." Yixing says simply.

"Have you … have you ever dreamt using a PASIV?" 

Yixing nods. "A few times, before I got here." He says, cryptically as usual. Xiaojun presses further.

"Then how did you get here?" 

Yixing smiles sadly. There's a longing look in his eyes, staring off into space. "You know the story of the classic romantic tragedy. I fell in love with someone and followed him to the ends of the earth. We travelled the globe together, but one day he got too reckless.” Yixing laughs bitterly. “I’ve always been smarter than him, after all. He got locked away and I’ve been trying to save him ever since. I’ve just been waiting for the right time.” Before Xiaojun can respond, Yixing suddenly stands up. "Enough about me. We should get you back before someone realizes that we've been gone for so long."

"Yeah." Xiaojun responds, a little disappointed. "Yeah, okay."

✧✧✧

“The rest of the team may trust you, but I still don’t.” Ten says, cat-like eyes boring into Yangyang. Xiaojun and Ten are lingering behind as the rest of the team pack up for the day: Ten’s there to actually confront Yangyang, Xiaojun’s only there out of curiosity. 

Yangyang barely looks fazed, grinning. “Is that a challenge? Do you want me to prove my worth to you?” 

Ten slides over a PASIV device, opening the briefcase and turning it on. His smile is borderline feline. “How about we begin now?” 

Yangyang leans forward until his and Ten’s faces are but a few breaths apart. 

“Let’s do it.” 

The three of them hook up to the PASIV and in a blink of an eye, the dream world manifests around them. They’re in Ten’s mind this time, and it’s gorgeous. 

Xiaojun sometimes forgets how beautifully artistic and creative Ten’s mind is, but as the city of Seoul unfurls around them in astounding detail, he’s nothing short of mesmerized. It’s not a complete replica of Seoul: there’s elements of Bangkok sprinkled throughout, from the flashing LED signs in Thai rather than Korean to the street vendors selling popular Thai snacks. There’s an artist’s touch and eye to everything, from the heavenly lighting to the foreshortening that looks straight out of a movie snapshot. 

“Show-off, much?” Xiaojun remarks, to which Ten rolls his eyes, smiling back. 

“Just a little something I threw together.” 

Yangyang shrugs. “That’s pretty impressive, but can you do this?” 

Right in front of their eyes, his hair effortlessly shifts from a deep mahogany brown to a vibrant strawberry blonde, spilling over his shoulders in beachy waves and stopping right at his hips. His facial features completely morph and reshape themselves into a smaller, much softer face. Wide, innocent looking eyes, fuller cheeks, and pouty mouth. Alongside all that, he shrinks a little in height, still retaining much of his muscle mass but sporting a fuller chest and wider hips. Yangyang’s clothes have even changed into a pretty teal sundress that stops right above his ankles, laced up in the front with baby pink ribbon, puffy sleeves, and lace trim. 

Xiaojun has to hold himself back from openly gaping. Yangyang is a natural at this, quite arguably one of the best forgers he’s ever seen. He shivers a little as Yangyang steps forward into his personal space. 

Yangyang smiles demurely at them. “So,” he slides a finger down the front of Xiaojun’s shirt, tossing his head in Ten’s direction, “how did I do?” 

Ten crosses his arms, lips pressed together. “Not bad. But not impressive enough to win me over.” 

“Alright then,” Yangyang says, nodding slowly and circling around Ten until he’s out of sight, “perhaps this might do the trick, hm?” He emerges on the other side as —

— Kun. 

Ten looks genuinely shocked this time, eyes widening as he takes in Yangyang’s near perfect forgery of Kun. This version of Kun looks a little different from the Kun Xiaojun’s seen before though, much younger looking and more innocent. He stands as if he’s trying to take up as little space as possible, peering out into the world behind freshly dyed brown bangs. This is Kun from nearly five years ago, back when he freshly debuted into the dreamshare world. 

“So? How’d I do this time?” Yangyang says, which is a little strange coming from Kun’s mouth. He’s even got Kun’s voice spot on. 

“You’re using Kun because you know that’s my weak spot.” Ten says slowly, thoughtfully. He hums to himself. “You’re good. Welcome to the team.” 

Yangyang immediately shifts back into himself, face breaking out into a brilliant smile. “Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Ten says, grabbing his shoulder. “You’re good, but you’re still going to need a little bit more training before we get on with the job. Not anything too difficult though, we’ll help you out with that.” He leans in, mouth near Yangyang’s ear so that Xiaojun can’t hear them. 

“Your Kun is a touch outdated, after all.” 

Yangyang’s smile only widens. “I did that on purpose. After all, that was the Kun when you two first met and fell in love, right?” 

Ten sniffs. “Time’s almost up. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ten makes no hesitation to leave once they’re back on the upside, tugging the IV line out of his arm and grabbing his things. “Pack things up and lock the warehouse when you leave Dejun-ah, okay?” He’s out of the door before Xiaojun can even answer. 

“Hey, I’m glad to see you again Dejun.” Yangyang says, smiling. That smile does weird things to Xiaojun’s stomach, especially when Yangyang’s reading out for his hand. “And we’re working together too, isn’t that so cool?” 

Xiaojun returns the gesture, smiling as Yangyang pulls him into a hug. He indulges himself for once, burying his nose against the crook of Yangyang’s neck and inhaling deeply. Nothing’s changed, he thinks to himself as he fists his hands into the material of Yangyang’s shirt. It’s the same Yangyang he fell in love with but was too afraid to confess to back in university. He resists the urge to kiss him — they’ve got all the time in the world now, after all. 

“It’s good to see you again too, Yangyang.” Xiaojun responds. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

He doesn’t hear the faint noise of rushing water in the background until he wakes up. 


	7. TRIAL: 1000

It happens in the night, just like the first time. 

Xiaojun wakes up to hands all over his body, a blindfold around his eyes and blacking out his vision. He screams, punching at and kicking at the people holding him hostage and taking him out of his cell, but it seems to do nothing to deter them. They’re dragging him down a hallway, taking him somewhere. 

He feels like he did when he first arrived at the facility: hopeless, terrified, and confused. An awful, dreadful feeling sinks down into the bottom of his gut, permeating into every fibre of his existence. Xiaojun wishes this waking nightmare would end. 

The captors finally halt to a stop, and Xiaojun hears the noise of a keypad being unlocked before he’s thrown onto metal grated floor, screaming in pain as the metal digs into his unhealed wounds. It’s as if every single bruise on his body has been reactivated, fresh and painful. His hands fumble to take off his blindfold in an attempt to catch a glimpse at who did this to him, but he’s too late. They’re already gone by the time he’s able to adjust to his surroundings. 

If he thought the cell was bad, this living situation is much, much worse. 

It's the sweltering heat that he first registers, followed by a pungent metallic smell and taste. They’ve thrown him in the boiler room, where the walls surrounding him are entirely made from thick metal pipes, spewing out gas and hissing at erratic intervals. An ominous red light blinks in front of him, reminding Xiaojun of an eye of sorts. He shudders, grasping the metal grated floor beneath him. He’s never felt more claustrophobic in his entire life. 

If time passed by at an agonizing pace when Xiaojun was back in his cell, the concept of time is completely obliterated while in the boiler room. Each passing day only marks another 24 hours of wasting away in a swelteringly hot room, blearily looking up at the ceiling before knocking back into a fitful sleep. He doesn’t see Yixing, the only person keeping him sane, for what feels like forever. They stop bringing him food and water too, and Xiaojun feels as if he’s on the verge of death. They’re slowly breaking him into submission. 

Sometimes, he wonders if it would just be easier for them to put him out of his misery. 

However, the one thing that keeps him going, practically forcing him to carry on, is the snapshot vision that continues to infiltrate his mind. This one involves bright flashes of eye numbing neon, a room with walls covered entirely in graffiti drawings. He catches glimpses of another human inside the room, but he never gets a good look at the stranger’s face. Xiaojun’s mind is riddled with hallucinations, though they’re not nearly enough to distract him from the worst pain he’s felt in his entire life. He wonders when this will all end. 

Xiaojun reflects deeply on what Yixing told him earlier, and begins to learn how to take control of his dreams. He falls into hypnotic trances, lying on the metal grated floor and focusing his mind on thoughts about Kun and Ten. Slowly but surely, it works, and for the first time since he’s arrived, his visions become much more acute and descriptive. 

He finally begins to piece parts of the puzzle together. 


	8. +SEOUL 1000

Dejun’s a second year architecture major when he first meets Kun and Ten. 

When his professor told him about a possible job opportunity, he didn’t know that it would translate into working in dreamshare illegally, and he definitely didn’t know that it would change his entire life. 

“I’d like you to meet Qian Kun.” His professor says. “Kun, this is Xiao Dejun.” 

Qian Kun is handsome in every sense of the word, dressed in a well-tailored Gucci suit and loafers. His hair is dark at the roots, fading into a caramel brown colour, elegantly styled to reveal his forehead. He looks effortlessly expensive. 

He looks dangerous. 

“Hi, I’m Kun.” He smiles, outstretching a hand. Dejun accepts it. 

“You wanted to see me for a work placement?” Dejun asks curiously. 

Kun’s smile turns mysterious. “Not exactly.” 

They end up on the balcony on top of one of the campus buildings, Kun hands over a pad of paper and a pen. “I have a test for you.” 

Dejun frowns, accepting both items. “You’re not going to tell me anything about the job beforehand?” 

“I have to know you’re right for the job first.” Kun pauses. “It’s not strictly speaking, legal.” 

“Alright,” Dejun says, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, “what’s the test?”

“You have two minutes to create a maze that can be solved in a minute.” 

The gears in Dejun’s brain begin to turn as he scribbles a rectangle onto the paper before drawing the walls of the maze inside. “Stop.” Kun says, taking the pad of paper and pen back from Dejun. He solves the maze in under a minute, shaking his head as he tears the page off, crumpling the paper in his hand. “Again.”

Dejun draws a slightly more complex version of his first maze. Kun still is able to solve it in under a minute. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” Kun mutters. Dejun scowls, grabbing the pad and pen back, flipping to the piece of cardboard on the very back of the pad of paper. This time, he draws a circular maze, working quickly to craft something more difficult than the first two mazes combined. 

It takes Kun a little over a minute to solve his maze. “That’s more like it.” Kun says, smiling. 

Kun takes them to a cafe, ordering two iced americanos. “So tell me, did you ever take psychology?” 

Dejun takes a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I took it first year as an elective, why?” 

“You must’ve learned about dreams right? About the brain’s enriched potential in the dream world? Tell me, were you ever fascinated about what you could accomplish in a dream?” 

Dejun nods slowly. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve always thought dreams were pretty cool.” 

“In your dreams, it almost feels like the world is creating itself, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it’s almost like I’m discovering everything for the first time.” 

“Exactly. It’s like genuine inspiration.” Kun pulls out the same pad of paper again, drawing two arrows in a continuous loop. “You see, in dreams, our mind continuously perceives and creates the world around us at the same time. It does this so well we don’t even know what’s happening.” Kun draws a line bisecting the continuous loop. “That allows us to get right in the middle of that process.” 

Dejun’s mouth curls into a frown. “How?” 

“By taking over the creating part.” Kun says, responding smoothly. “That’s where you come in. We need you to create the dream world, we’ll bring the subject into that dream and they’ll fill it with their subconscious.” 

“Look this is cool and all, but how am I supposed to create a world so detailed and vivid enough that the subject thinks that it’s reality?” 

Kun smirks. “You see, dreams always feel real when you’re experiencing them, right? It’s only when you wake up that you realize it was all a dream. Let me ask you a question,” Kun reclines back, crossing his arms, “you never really remember the beginning of a dream, right? You’re always thrown right into the middle of the action.” 

Dejun shrugs. “I guess, yeah?” 

Kun raises an eyebrow. “So how did we end up here?” 

“Well, we just came from the —” Dejun’s mind suddenly draws a blank. He purses his lips together, struggling to figure out how they ended up at the cafe. 

“Think about it Dejun, how did you end up  _ here _ ?” Kun’s voice lowers to a whisper. “Where are we  _ right now _ ?” Dejun peers around to take a good look at their surroundings for the first time. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, it just looks like they’re in downtown Seoul enjoying afternoon coffee. He thinks back to what Kun said earlier about dreaming, and his heartbeat starts to pick up. 

_ It can’t be true.  _

“We’re … dreaming?” Dejun says softly. 

There’s something magical and irreplicable about the first time you’ve realized you’re dreaming while in the middle of one. It’s equal parts fascinating and horrifying as the dream world around them shakes and quivers, everything seemingly going still before the sides of buildings around them explode, sending books, fruit, and rubble flying everywhere. Dejun’s eyes dart around in panic as the world crumbles, the ground bursting wide open, spewing cobblestone up into the air. 

There’s also something irreplicable about dying in a dream for the first time: experiencing indescribable pain, feeling your body tear itself into two and disintegrate into thin air, only to wake up in the real world, fully intact. Dejun gasps when he awakens to a run-down warehouse, lying on an old lawn chair. He runs his hands all over his body to reassure himself that he’s okay, he’s still all flesh and bones and in one piece. 

“It’s never just a dream, is it?” Kun says, lying down in a similar lawn chair right beside Dejun. “A face full of glass hurts like hell, and in the dream world, it feels real.” 

“That’s why the military developed dream sharing.” A third person appears in the room, standing beside the two of them. He looks like the human personification of a cat, with his lithe body and feline facial features. Dejun offhandedly wonders to himself if everyone in this illegal dreaming business looks like they just came off a fashion runway. “They created a training program so that soldiers could shoot each other all they wanted but they’d wake up and still be alive. I’m Ten, by the way.” He smiles at Kun. “Hey, baby.” 

Kun rolls his eyes. “Hey, Ten. Give us five more minutes, will you?” 

“Five minutes?” Dejun sputters. “No way that was five minutes.” 

“In a dream, everything seems to move more quickly, doesn’t it? Your mind functions much faster, therefore you can perceive much more.” 

They slip back into the world Kun created, a rendering of downtown Seoul. 

“You have the freedom to create anything you want.” Kun says as they walk down the cobble road in sync, Dejun looking around wide-eyed in fascination. 

He thinks about the Victorian-inspired stone bridge he crosses every day to get to school and it manifests itself right in front of them, albeit with more decoration and East Asian influences in the architecture. “Holy shit.” He mutters under his breath, picking up his pace and jogging across the bridge. 

“My mind populates the world with my subconscious,” Kun says, gesturing to all the people walking past them. “You’re going to have to be careful to not create or change too many things in the world around us or my subconscious will start to notice that there’s another person in their dream. They’ll attack you if things get too out of hand.” 

“Uh huh,” Dejun says offhandedly, only half listening to Kun. 

He gets a touch too ballsy, but could anyone complain? This is unlike anything Dejun’s ever experienced before. Lucid dreaming seems so dull in comparison to the sensation of being God, creating spires and skyscrapers at will, manifesting his wildest fantasies in technicolour vision. Dejun watches in awe as a massive apartment complex emerges from the ground just like a plant, creaking into place. Reality no longer seems quite as interesting as what he can accomplish here. 

“Christ, Dejun.  _ I told you to be careful! _ ” A large mob of Kun’s subconscious starts gaining on them, grabbing at Dejun and pulling at his arms while Kun attempts to push them away. “Hey, leave him alone!” Kun shouts, socking one of them cleanly in the jaw. 

“KUN! KUN, WAKE ME UP!” Dejun screams as a projection of Kun’s subconscious punches in the gut, sending him crashing against the floor. The pain is insufferable, squirming on the floor as he feels another one kick him in the ribs. A projection dressed up as a butcher stalks towards Dejun, meat cleaver in hand. “KUN, WAKE ME UP!” Dejun screams louder as the butcher raises his arm into the air, before plunging the knife straight into Dejun’s stomach. 

Dejun awakens, body paralyzed by fear as he gasps for air. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Ten’s by his side in an instant, gently squeezing Dejun’s shoulder. “You’re okay, you’re alive.” 

He clutches his stomach, still feeling the aftershock of the pain. “Why,” Dejun wheezes, “why wouldn’t I wake up?” Everything hurts, but strangely enough, it’s like a phantom pain. 

“You still had some time on the clock, and you can’t wake up from a dream unless you get killed.” Ten explains soothingly. 

Dejun tears the IV line from his arm, abruptly standing up as Kun slowly awakens. “Listen, this is so fucked up. I don’t care what you guys want to do, but I’m not going to be a part of this.” He storms to the door, slamming it on his way out. 

Ten rolls his eyes. “Nice work, Kun.” 

“He’ll be back, I promise you. I’ve never seen anyone pick it up that quickly.” 

Ten nods. “He’s got a spark in him that I’ve never seen before.” 

✦✦✦

Dejun copes with everything by heading straight to the campus gym, spending nearly all his free time there in the weeks following his encounter with Kun. There’s something therapeutic about boxing, his fists falling into a monotonous rhythm of making contact with the punching bag. He enjoys the physical intensity and rigour, working himself until he sweats all over. 

It’s also at the campus gym where he meets Yangyang for the first time. 

One day, when he’s taking a quick water break, he spots arguably the hottest person he’s ever laid his eyes on, waiting by the water fountain for his turn. Which is saying a lot, considering he’s met Kun and Ten. 

“Hey, I’m Liu Yangyang.” 

“Xiao Dejun. Nice to meet you.” 

“Couldn’t he lp but notice that you spend a lot of time at the gym.” Yangyang remarks, grinning playfully. He takes a long drink of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm. “What, are you a sports major?” 

“Nah. I’m in architecture. You?” 

“Music. I’m minoring in theatre.” 

Dejun offhandedly thinks about how he used to be so passionate about music, hell-bent on the idea of becoming a musician when he grew up. That was, until his parents discouraged him and told him to go into a more lucrative and less risky profession. “That’s pretty cool.” 

Yangyang pats him on the back. Dejun’s sweating all over but somehow registers the warmth of Yangyang’s palm, nearly searing his skin like an iron brand. “Hey, I’ll see you around, right?” 

“Yeah.” Dejun smiles before his brain can process the action. “See you.” 

Apparently,  _ “I’ll see you around”  _ translates into spotting Yangyang in the gym showers an hour later. They’re the last two people there, the only ones willing to stick around right until the campus gym closed for the day. Xiaojun’s throat goes dry as he strips his shirt off. 

“Yangyang.” 

The other man is already naked in front of him, rubbing strawberry scented body wash all over himself. His face brightens when he sees Dejun, looking like an excited puppy. “Dejun! I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.” 

Dejun shimmies out of his shorts and underwear as well, quickly retrieving his own bottle of body wash from his locker. “Yeah, me neither.” A flare of want surges through him as he walks back into the showers, flushing at the way Yangyang looks at him behind hooded eyes. He is painfully aware of how turned on he is, the way his erection is standing proud. 

“Need a little help with that?” Yangyang teases, and that’s all the confirmation Dejun needs before pressing Yangyang against the tiled wall. Yangyang moans beautifully underneath him, dropping his bottle of body wash on the floor and arching into Dejun’s touch. They kiss with a lack of finesse: it’s messy and heated and desperate, Dejun grasps onto Yangyang’s hips and grinds their cocks together. It feels so fucking good, so overwhelming yet not enough at the same time. 

Yangyang drops to his knees in an instant, sliding his hands down Dejun’s chiseled torso as he does so. Dejun’s already leaking precum and Yangyang wraps a hand around his cock, spreading the precum at the tip with the pad of his thumb and drawing out a groan from Dejun. 

“Fuck,” Dejun mutters under his breath, fisting a hand into Yangyang’s wet hair, “you look so pretty like this.” Yangyang just smiles at the praise, wetting his lips before licking a stripe up the length of Dejun’s cock. “Christ, Yangyang, stop being a fucking tease,” Dejun curses and immediately regrets saying it when Yangyang wraps his lips around the tip of Dejun’s cock and  _ deepthroats it all at once _ .

It knocks a guttural moan right out of Dejun. His head makes contact with the tiled wall behind him, back arching and resisting the urge to fuck into the tight heat of Yangyang’s mouth. Yangyang’s enthusiasm and skill is  _ so fucking hot _ , Dejun already feels so close to orgasming. 

Yangyang looks obscene like this, pupils blown and mouth stretched around Dejun’s cock, bobbing his head up and down. The sounds he’s making are just as lewd: the filthy squelch of choking on Dejun’s cock harmonizing with all the pretty noises he’s making. 

“Ah wait —” Yangyang suddenly pulls off, lips slick with saliva, “— cum on my face.” 

The thought is enough to tip Dejun over the edge and reach his climax, moaning as he cums all over Yangyang’s face. Still on his knees and covered in Dejun’s cum, Yangyang jerks himself off. He rests his head against Dejun’s thigh after he cums, gasping.

“That was fun.” Yangyang finally says, looking up at Dejun with a glimmer in his eyes. “We should do that again.” 

They fall into a bit of an arrangement after that. Neither of them really attempt to define their relationship, but Dejun supposes “fuckbuddies” does a good job. It’s a nice destressor and certainly works a lot better than working out all the time. 

Yet, it still isn’t enough to distract him from Kun and Ten. The thought gnaws away at his brain, like an infectious parasite. He spends nearly every waking moment thinking about what happened when he shared a dream with Kun, the infinite possibilities of what he was able to create. 

_ Well,  _ he thinks back to getting stabbed,  _ there are _ some  _ limitations.  _

Regardless, reality seems so mundane in comparison to his dreams. He wants to learn more. 

“Fuck it,” Dejun grumbles, grabbing his things and making his way back to the warehouse. 

Kun looks delighted to see him storming in. “I knew you’d be back.” 

✦✦✦

Life falls into an odd routine after that. 

“So, what kind of illegal business scheme are you two exactly in?” 

Ten laughs. “That’s one way to put it. We steal secrets for a living by entering people’s dreams and stealing from their subconscious. We perform extraction.” 

“Oh,” Dejun says dumbly. “How’d you guys get into extracting? I mean, it’s not exactly a viable career option that high school counselors talk about.” 

Kun and Ten exchange a glance. “Well,” Kun begins, “we had a mutual friend who was in the military and told us about the technology. Ten found someone that was willing to teach us the ropes and the rest of history.” He shrugs. “Sorta like your situation right now.” 

Dejun should theoretically be scared, his moral compass should be screaming at him to not pursue a career in  _ illegal extraction _ . Yet despite the days of pondering and deep introspection, the mystique and fascinating characteristics of dream sharing keep tugging on his heartstrings. Something tells him that there’s nothing in the world quite like this, and that it’s worth risking everything in his life to chase after. 

So he stays and takes an apprenticeship under the guidance of Kun and Ten. Dejun still keeps up with his university studies but spends nearly every second of his free time with them. They show him the ropes and teach him everything he could possibly need to know about dreamsharing.

Dejun takes to creating vast landscapes and architecture in dreams like a duck swimming in water. Ten lends him three books: one’s a PASIV manual and the other two are about how to construct mazes. Dejun practically devours everything Ten gives him, reading and memorizing the books’ contents in a few days. He arrives back at the warehouse, demanding more books to read and Ten fixes him a look that’s half amused and half impressed. Every second not spent studying for his university exams or learning class content is dedicated towards becoming a better architect in the world of dream sharing. 

He hates to admit it, but he also slowly develops a fondness for Kun and Ten. Dejun learns that Kun is an extractor, skilled at stealing the secrets hidden deep within whoever they’ve been hired to extract from — their  _ mark _ . He’s the head of their small team of three and a natural born leader. Ten is Kun’s loyal pointman, his right hand man, and coincidentally the man he’s madly in love with. While Kun may be the head of operations, Ten is the glue holding it all together. He takes meticulous care in researching everything about their mark, mulling through the details of their plan to make sure everything is perfect and nothing has been overlooked. 

Kun and Ten never treat him like a child but their growing affection for him is undeniable. 

“I never really asked, but how old are you guys?” Dejun asks one day during their lunch break. 

Kun scoffs. “We’re not that much older than you, you know. We’re only four years apart in age from you.” 

“Nah, ignore him.” Ten retorts, face smiling with glee. “Kun is practically a grandpa.” 

Kun scowls. “ _ Yongqin _ , I’m not that old! I’m only, like, a month older than you!” 

Ten shrugs. “Still a grandpa.” 

He leans in, whispering and cupping a hand around his mouth like he’s about to tell a secret. “Kun is practically ancient.” 

“HEY!” Kun snaps. “I heard that!” 

Kun says that they’ve known each other for two years but only recently started dating. They bicker like an old married couple, and Dejun thinks it’s hilarious. 

“You guys are like my parents.” Dejun remarks. 

“Aww, you hear that Kun? We’re his  _ parents! _ ” Ten says delightedly. 

✦✦✦

He moves out of the campus dorms about a month later. Kun has wealthy parents that own a few apartment complexes, and he offers Dejun his very own apartment room. He explains all of it with a shrug, reasoning that it’ll be more convenient if they all live together. 

“ _ Are you kidding? _ ” Dejun exclaims. “I’ve wanted to move out of the dormitory the second I moved in. It’s run down and so awful. I’ll  _ gladly _ take an apartment room.” 

Which is how Dejun ends moving into Kun and Ten’s apartment. It’s beautifully furnished and feels incredibly cozy and Dejun falls in love with it the second he steps inside. The walls are painted the loveliest shade of cream, each room decorated with various memorabilia and scientific posters. It looks like the love child of a 90s brainiac and someone who likes kaiju movies a little  _ too  _ much. Everything looks a touch antique, but only further lends itself to the cozy atmosphere of it all. 

“Ten was right,” Dejun muses as he looks through Kun’s vinyl record collection, an eclectic mix of mandopop and classical music, “you really are a grandpa.” 

“ _ Hey _ , it’s not my fault the sound quality is much better than a CD.” Kun huffs, crossing his arms. Ten’s laughing his ass off in the background, nearly falling off the couch. 

Dejun adores living with them. He loves looking through Kun’s bookshelves stuffed with books on wormholes, black holes, and other space anomalies. He loves spending late nights with Kun when they’re not planning for the job, watching Kun draw diagrams of wormholes while enthusiastically explaining every detail. He loves listening to Ten talk about his days as a professional dancer, how he trained for nearly half his life but sacrificed it all for Kun. He loves it when Ten talks to him about his tattoos, showing off his sketchbooks bursting full with gorgeously inked doodles and full illustrations. 

He glances at his tiny but found family, and heart swells with joy. 

  
  


✦✦✦

Perhaps Dejun lied about spending all his time either taking his university classes or learning how to create sprawling cityscapes in the dream realm.  _ A man has his needs,  _ Dejun thinks to himself as he types out a text to Yangyang, concise and to the point. 

[dj_xiao]: you free tonight? im horny.

He chuckles softly at how quickly Yangyang responds. Good to know that the feeling is mutual. 

[yang_yang]: ofc, your place? ;) ur parents gone for the night?

Dejun rolls his eyes. The first time Yangyang met Kun and Ten was a little embarrassing, albeit quite endearing to see three people he cares about very much in one room together. Yangyang still insists that they’re his parents, despite how much Dejun complains about calling them that. He’s lucked out tonight: Kun and Ten are out on a date at the movies and he has the entire place to himself for at least a couple more hours. 

[dj_xiao]: yes to both 

[dj_xiao]: see you soon ;)

[yang_yang]: ill be there asap

The two of them are still hesitant to put a label on what they’re exactly doing, but all rational thought is immediately disposed of once Yangyang steps through the front door, pinning Dejun to an adjacent wall, fisting his hands in the fabric of Dejun’s t-shirt and kissing him roughly.

“It’s good to see you too.” Dejun muses, breathless. 

“God, I missed you so much.” 

“We haven’t seen each other in two days.” 

Yangyang shrugs. “Feels like an eternity to me.” He says honestly, and Dejun feels his heart do the thing where it squeezes inside his ribcage, filling him with a sensation not too far off from affection. He cards a hand through Yangyang’s hair — it’s grown out a little bit since they first met, but Dejun’s not complaining, especially when he has more hair to pull on when he fucks into Yangyang.

“You’re such a romantic.” 

Yangyang leans forward, capturing Dejun’s mouth in a gentle kiss. “I can’t help it when I’m around you.” 

“Maybe I missed you too.” 

Yangyang flushes, hands sliding downwards to grope Dejun’s ass. 

Dejun retaliates by palming Yangyang through his jeans, feeling him harden in his hand. “How about I show you just how much I missed you by taking you to my bedroom?” He murmurs, voice turning smooth and silky against the shell of Yangyang’s ear. Yangyang groans in response.

“God, you fucking tease.” Dejun grabs onto the backs of Yangyang’s thighs, hoisting him up into his arms and causing Yangyang to softly moan as his erection presses against Dejun’s toned torso. 

Yangyang sighs dreamily, sucking a mark into the side of Dejun’s neck. “There will never be a day when I don't find your ridiculous strength mind-blowingly attractive.” Dejun laughs, walking the two of them over to his bedroom and greedily stealing more kisses along the way. 

“I suppose we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” 

✦✦✦

Two months pass before Kun announces an upcoming job they have. It’s nothing too fancy, just a simple extraction that will allow Dejun to acclimate. 

Despite the job’s simplicity, Dejun works his ass off. He’s only required to construct a single suburban style street but he pours his heart and soul into every detail, meticulously working through every single step of the process. He pours over the documents Ten collects on the mark, reading every line until his brain goes numb and his eyes ache from staying up into the wee hours of the night. In the warehouse, he creates scale models of every single building, making sure not to overlook anything. Dejun spends days within the dream world making sure that everything looks right and that he creates an immersive atmosphere. 

Dejun doesn’t care that this is an easy job. He wants to do well, and he definitely wants to leave a good impression on Kun and Ten to prove his worth. 

To prove that he’s a worthy team member and that they should keep him around. 

University seems so dull and pointless in comparison to dream espionage, so after a while he just stops attending his classes. Stops doing his homework, stops handing in assignments. Dejun fully immerses himself in his work and the dream realm.

It’s not really his fault when he disappears off the face of the planet for a month.


	9. TRIAL: 1000 1010 1011 111 10100

It’s a miracle that Xiaojun makes it out alive. 

He’s half conscious when they drag him out of the boiler room, fading in and out of reality and his dreams. They bring him to Yixing, though he barely registers anything that’s going on. Yixing helps him drink a couple glasses of water before spoon feeding him flavourless porridge. Xiaojun barely has enough energy to part his lips or to swallow, but he manages. 

“You’re okay, you’ll be alright.” Yixing softly whispers, feeding him another spoonful of porridge. “I’m here now. You’re not going to die.” Xiaojun lets out a guttural grunt in response, one that he hopes sounds thankful for what Yixing’s done. 

Yixing just smiles back at him, cheeks dimpling. “You’ve been through quite a lot already. Rest for a bit okay? I’ll be here by your side, you’ll be safe.” 

And for the first time, without any resistance, Xiaojun finds himself nodding. Sure, he and Yixing were on friendly terms before, but he always cloaked himself in a layer of apprehension, just to protect himself. It’s like a switch has been turned on inside him. 

The realization that he’d trust Yixing with his life slowly dawns on him. 

Xiaojun doesn’t have enough time to dwell on that thought before he passes out in exhaustion. 

✧✧✧

True to his word, Yixing’s still there when he wakes up again. 

“Hey,” Yixing says cheerfully, “you’re awake again.” 

“Yeah.” Xiaojun’s voice feels scratchy from disuse, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of death. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you earlier.” 

Yixing waves a hand back and forth. “Nonsense. You don’t need to thank me at all. I’m just doing my job here.” 

Xiaojun shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I’m truly grateful for what you did.” He pauses.

“Thank you.” 

Yixing briefly flushes a little before looking away. “Really, it’s nothing. As I said, my job here is to keep you alive.” He seems enthusiastic to change the conversation topic. “You hungry?”

“Are you kidding? I’m famished.” 

“How about I get you something to eat and you go to the bathroom?” Yixing leans in, as if to tell a secret. “I’ll let you use the bathroom in the medic wing. The one with a shower.” 

Xiaojun thinks he could cry. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s last had the luxury of showering (in an actual shower and not hastily attempted to clean himself with a sink), and the sensation of water droplets sliding down his body feels so soothing that he nearly forgets about how awful his current situation is. However, he’s still haunted by memories of The Woman so he showers fairly quickly, towelling off and dressing in the change of clothes Yixing’s also given him. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Yixing’s prepared what looks like a feast worthy for a king. Granted, it’s only a sandwich, apple, and glass of orange juice, but seeing solid food and _juice_ for the first time in forever feels akin to an opulent banquet. 

“You really didn’t have to.” Xiaojun says, breathless. “And don’t pull some bullshit about how this is your job. I know that most people wouldn’t offer this much kindness to a stranger.” 

“You’re right.” Yixing admits. 

“Huh?”

“I usually wouldn’t be this nice. I guess there’s just something about you that I’m drawn to.” 

Xiaojun’s eyebrows furrow together. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a spark inside you, unlike anything I’ve seen before.” Yixing’s facial expression turns soft. “There’s a goodness in you, Xiaojun. There’s a spark. I don’t want it to die out.” 

“Oh.” Xiaojun says simply. He eats in silence for a few more minutes, watching Yixing reorganize various shelves in the medic bay. “I had a couple more dreams. Or visions, I guess. About Kun and Ten.” He finally says, breaking the silence. Yixing’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, turning around to face him. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah. I must have known them before all of this.” He smiles a little at the thought. “We were like a family. It was really nice.” Xiaojun frowns, expression turning solemn. “I just don’t know what happened after all of that, or how I ended up here.” 

“They must miss you a lot.” Yixing says quietly. 

Xiaojun shrugs. “I guess. I mean, I’ve met Kun, but that’s not the Kun I know. Or at least, the Kun I _knew_. And Ten — well, I haven’t even met him yet, but from what I’ve seen so far, he seems like such a great guy.” He laughs a little, thinking about how Kun and Ten constantly bickered with one another, the way they cared so much for him. His heart squeezes inside his ribcage. “I’d love to meet Ten again.” 

“Ten would probably love to meet you too, Xiaojun.” Yixing smiles a little, but his expression is reserved and closed-off. “I’m sure of it.” 

“Thanks.” Xiaojun sighs. “I just don’t know how much longer I’ll be stuck here.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find them.” 

✧✧✧

Peace at the facility doesn’t last for very long. 

The Woman shows up at the medic bay about a day later, slamming open the doors with little care for how loud the noise is. Xiaojun involuntarily curls his hands into fists at the sight of her, a sight he most definitely didn’t miss. 

“Subject 1000,” she drawls, “I hope you rested well.” 

Xiaojun has to resist the urge to scowl in response. 

He’s brought back into the room with the PASIV device, watching as The Woman prepares the IV tube for insertion. For the first time, Xiaojun isn’t worried or anxious about the action at all. Oddly enough, he feels a rush of adrenaline at the thought of encountering Kun, and possibly Winwin again. 

Xiaojun mind distantly wanders back Yixing’s advice from a while ago, how he told him to go deeper into the dream. He’s not sure if it’s even possible, but he’ll damn try his hardest. If it’ll help him make sense of this situation, it’ll be worth it. 

The Woman barely gives him a heads up before pressing the button, sending Xiaojun into a sea of endless black. 

✧✧✧

_This day couldn’t possibly get any stranger,_ Xiaojun thinks to himself as he enters Kun’s level of the dream and isn’t met with mirror shards pressed up against his neck. The room is no longer torn to shreds and covered in shards of mirror, but looks as if no one’s ever lived in it before. Everything is perfectly intact and clean. 

“Xiaojun?” 

Xiaojun freezes in his tracks. Everything feels terribly off. 

Kun has never greeted him like this. 

“Xiaojun, is that you?” The maniacal, off-kilter version of Dream Kun that Xiaojun’s familiar with has been replaced with something softer, much more vulnerable. It even reflects in his appearance: his hair is still blue, but it’s been neatly styled in such a way that it reveals his forehead. Not a single strand of hair is out of place. Kun’s also now wearing a black jacket layered over an orange shirt, as well as black utility pants: nearly identical to the clothes Xiaojun was given by Yixing. Xiaojun’s heart squeezes with familiarity. 

He reminds him of the Kun he knows — or at least, once knew. 

“Kun,” Xiaojun furrows his brows together in shock, “what happened to you?” 

“I don’t know.” Kun says, frantically shaking his head. “But you have to find a way to get us out of here.” He doesn’t look crazed, but rather worn down. Completely broken and exhausted within. 

“Is that even possible?” 

“Yes. You have to find Ten, he has the keys to get us all out of here.” 

Xiaojun’s throat suddenly feels very dry. “Ten? Kun, I haven’t found him yet. I have no idea where he is.” Kun’s face falls a little. 

“I don’t know either. I’m sure he’s closer than you think he is. He’ll usually hide in plain sight.” 

Xiaojun wants to tell Kun that what he just said doesn’t help him at all, but he just nods. “I’ll make sure to find him.” He lies through his teeth, but the smile that blooms on Kun’s face is completely worth it. He suddenly has the urge to pull Kun into a hug, but brushes it aside — he needs to find more answers.

“How did you know who I am?”

Kun frowns. “What do you mean? Xiaojun, we ended up here together. We’re a _team,_ remember? Surely the last three years haven’t disappeared from your memory.” 

“Wait, but how did you remember all of that?” 

Kun looks even more perplexed. “I remembered all of it because I never forgot? Xiaojun, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh my god.” Xiaojun gasps at the implication. “Oh my god, you’re remembering. Your memories are returning to you.” He has absolutely no idea what triggered this, but this is a major progression. “Do you remember who else is stuck here with us? Who else is a part of our team?” 

Kun sniffs. “You’re acting really weird, Xiaojun.” 

“Is there a way for me to find the rest of them?”

“I don’t know where they are exactly. I’ve been stuck here alone for a pretty long time.”

Xiaojun’s heartbeat quickens. “Can I go deeper into the dream?” 

“That’s one possibility.” Kun says slowly, thinking about it. “But just make sure you don't go down too deep that you’ll enter limbo.” He manifests a PASIV in his hands, opening the device and pulling out an IV line. Xiaojun nods, pretending like he knows what limbo is. 

“Okay. Thanks so much, Kun.” 

“I’m serious Xiaojun. Don’t go down too deep,” Kun warns, sliding the IV line into Xiaojun’s forearm, “it’ll be too dangerous for you.” 

Xiaojun grins. “Gotcha.”

“Be back when I give you the kick.” Kun says right before Xiaojun’s world dissolves around him. 

✧✧✧

Xiaojun’s a little disappointed when nothing about Winwin’s dream has changed. He still has to sit through the incredibly awkward and dismal car ride, flinching when the driver yells at him to get out. The Woman’s there as well, standing before Winwin with the same metal tray in her hands. He scowls back at her, just like his routine dictates, before yelling back at her, causing her to tut her head like before, walking back into the darkness. 

_Huh,_ Xiaojun ponders to himself. _So then why did Kun’s dream change?_

He doesn’t dwell too much on the thought though: he’s got one goal in mind and that’s to find a way to go deeper into the dream. 

“Hey, Winwin.” He says, cautiously approaching the other man. Winwin’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t make an attempt to attack Xiaojun. “What was going on back there?”

“She gives me two options. A yellow pill and a blue pill.” Winwin explains, eyes boring out into space, avoiding eye contact with Xiaojun. “Yellow gives you the option to awaken the world, whatever that means. Blue means you stay complacent, go deeper into the dream.” 

“Awaken the world?” Xiaojun parrots. 

“Aren’t you a curious one.” Winwin mutters under his breath, finally turning his head to face Xiaojun. “You are?” 

“I’m —”

“— Xiaojun.” Winwin says it with surprise, almost as if he doesn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. He delicately presses a hand to his lips, furrowing his brows in contemplation. “You’re Xiaojun.” 

“Yeah.” Xiaojun responds, a little startled. “How’d you know?” 

Winwin shrugs. “Suddenly came to me. I don’t know.” It reminds Xiaojun too much of what happened to Kun, and he’s starting to wonder if the two instances are related.

_They must be, but I still have no idea what triggered both scenarios._

“Why are you here?” 

“Can you help me go a level deeper into the dream?” 

Winwin purses his lips. “Sure. But I must warn you that I don’t know what’s down there. You’re going to have to be careful.” He manifests a PASIV in his hands as seamlessly as Kun was able to, gesturing for Xiaojun to come forward. Xiaojun’s in a pretty awkward position, sitting at the base of Winwin’s massive metal throne, resting his back against one of its sides. Winwin works the PASIV with a level of ease that only can come from years of practice, keeping at level gaze with Xiaojun once he’s ready to insert the IV line.

“I’ll give you a kick, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Xiaojun says, a little drunk off adrenaline. He’s excited to see what awaits him. 

“I’m serious. Your brain could turn to scrambled eggs if you go down too deep.” Winwin cautions. “Don’t get too cocky down there.” 

✧✧✧

The first thing that Xiaojun registers when he regains consciousness is that he’s in _free-fall_ . The second thing he registers is how absolutely _bright_ everything is. He’s outside, or at least what appears to be the outside world, looking out into an endless sea of blue sky, the sun’s rays shining down onto him. 

The third, and arguably the most important, thing he registers is that he’s falling from the sky and there’s a cityscape beneath him. Wind roars in his ears, heart jackhammering in his chest as he desperately thinks of a way to prevent himself from plummeting to his death. 

Xiaojun doesn’t even have time to scream before something, or rather, _someone_ swoops in at the last minute, catching Xiaojun in his arms. He tentatively looks up at his saviour, and Xiaojun wasn’t sure what he expected to see but a _shirtless man with massive angel wings_ definitely was nowhere near the top of his list. The man swoops down, gracefully landing onto the top of a skyscraper building before setting him down. 

“You gotta be more careful out there,” he jokes, crossing his arms, “how did you even end up falling out of the sky like that?” 

If Ten is the human personification of a cat then this stranger must be the human personification of a puppy. His face is handsomely proportionate, featuring big plush lips, big double-lidded eyes, strong brows, and cute ears that stick out just the slightest bit. Besides the pair of drawstring black sweatpants he’s got on, he’s wearing nothing else, displaying his gorgeously sculpted torso out in the open. Xiaojun may be watering at the mouth just a little. 

His hair is dyed a cool tone of gray, stylishly pushed back to show off his forehead. However the most striking feature of him are his massive feathered wings that must span a few meters long. They’re a gorgeous shade of cream, and Xiaojun swears there are glitter particles embedded in the feathers, judging from the way they beautifully reflect the sun’s rays, twinkling in the light. He looks ethereal, like an angel sent from above. 

Xiaojun’s at a slight loss for words. “Thank you so much.” He’s taken aback by how genuinely kind and charismatic the stranger is, completely unlike how Kun and Winwin were when he first met them. The stranger has the same warmth to him as Yixing, positively radiating happiness from where he’s standing. “I’m Xiaojun.” 

The stranger smiles wide. “Lucas. Nice to meet you.” 

“Your wings are pretty cool.” 

“Aren’t they?” Lucas turns around, showing off his muscular back and flexing his wings. “Wanna go for a ride? I can show you around.” Xiaojun nods enthusiastically as Lucas scoops him in his arms again, bridal style. 

“Hold on tight.” Lucas says, winking. He crouches down before leaping up into the air, massive wings flapping until they’re airborne. A pleasant breeze ruffles through Xiaojun’s hair as he looks at the sprawling cityscape beneath them. They're high enough that the people and cars on the street look like nothing more than tiny ants. 

Lucas stops for a moment, wings flapping behind to keep them suspended midair. He gestures to a big expanse of green, a park nestled in the heart of a concrete jungle. It’s surrounded by a variety of lush trees and shrubbery bursting with flowers. It must be springtime in the city. 

“Isn’t that beautiful?” 

“Yeah.” Xiaojun responds, breathless. He looks up at Lucas. “It’s so pretty.” 

“C’mon, let me show you another part of the city that I really like.” 

One second everything is fine, and the next second Lucas is screaming with pain and they’re in freefall again. Xiaojun's stomach plummets when he notices that an arrow has lodged itself into the base of one of Lucas’ wings, effectively immobilizing him. Blood oozes from the wound as the ground appears closer and closer. 

Despite all this, Lucas’ arms are protectively wrapped around Xiaojun. Xiaojun buries his face against the crook of Lucas’ neck, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the sudden impact as they’re a few meters from the concrete pavement and —

— they never hit the ground. 

They’re still in freefall, but the cityscape dissolves into black nothingness. 

Lucas screams in agony again, an expression of indescribable pain plastered all over his face. 

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Xiaojun exclaims in horror when he realizes that both of Lucas’ beautiful wings have been severed off, leaving nothing but two bloody stumps protruding from his back. The wounds are still fresh, blood trickling down all over Lucas’ back. 

They both collapse onto a metal platform below them, nearly crying out from the pain of making impact with solid ground. Lucas shifts up onto his knees, coughing up blood as if he was repeatedly socked into the jaw. He looks so much smaller than he did before, curling in on himself as he attempts to hold back tears. 

His back is drenched in his own blood, some of it already beginning to dry. 

“Lucas, are you alright?” Xiaojun says feebly. “What happened back there?” 

“You weren’t meant to see that.” Lucas respondly weakly. “I knew it was going to happen but I was foolish to think that just for today, things would be in my favour.” 

“What do you mean?”

Lucas smiles sadly. “Haven’t you figured out? It’s a loop. Without fail, I live out the same routine every single day. It always ends up in my wings getting severed off. I always end up back down here.” 

Xiaojun’s jaw goes slack, mouth falling open. “Wait so if it’s a loop, do you remember anything from the previous days?” Lucas shakes his head, forlornly looking at the floor.

“Every day, time is reset and so are all of my memories. The only thing I remember is that it’s going to loop again,

“Time is turned back.” Xiaojun whispers, breathless. “It’s like you never lived out that day.” 

Everything is starting to click in his mind, he’s finally able to piece larger parts of the puzzle together. But it still leaves one question unanswered: how was Kun able to regain some of memories. 

It also begs the question why he never lived through the same time loop. 

The walls start to creak around them and Xiaojun hears a shrill noise in the distance. Lucas’ eyes bug out. “Xiaojun, you have to be careful. I’m so sorry, I’m such a fool —”

Xiaojun cuts Lucas off before he can ramble more. “— what do you mean? What’s going to happen to me.” 

Lucas looks terrified, shaking as he speaks now. “They know you know about the nature of these dreams. You now know about the one thing holding us all hostage here. They’re going to hunt you down and break you, just like they did to the rest of us.” 

“ _Who_?” Xiaojun says, but he barely manages out the words before a knife wedges itself through his shoulder blades. Unfathomable pain surges through his entire body and he screams his lungs out just before he blacks out. 

✧✧✧

He’s still screaming when he resurfaces in Winwin’s dream, surprised to find himself in Winwin’s arms. 

“Woah, steady there.” Winwin says reassuringly, despite the sharp look in his eyes. “Xiaojun, what happened down there? How did you get killed?” 

Xiaojun’s shaking, holding onto Winwin’s shoulders for support. “Oh my god, _oh my god Winwin,_ they’re going to kill because I know.” His eyes widen, boring into Winwin’s soul. “You have to kill me. I have to get back up to Kun.” 

“You’re kidding me.” Winwin snorts. “Listen, I’m not killing you.”

“Winwin, _please_. I need to get back up to Kun.” 

Winwin sighs. “Only because you’re begging me. I’ll make this as painless as possible.” 

He manifests a gun in his hands and shoots Xiaojun right between the eyes. 

✧✧✧

“Time isn't up, I didn’t give you the kick, why are you back here?” Realization slowly draws on Kun’s face. “Oh my god Xiaojun, what happened down there?” Kun looks panicked, eyes blown wide and heart thundering in his chest when Xiaojun awakens. “How did you get killed down there?” 

“Kun, they know. They know that I know about the time loop. I’m going to get killed.” Xiaojun looks up at him, nearly on the verge of tears. “Kun-ge, what am I going to do?” The honorific slips out of his mouth before his brain can even process it. Kun openly gapes at him. 

“Oh my god.” Xiaojun can hear how loud Kun’s heart is pounding. “Say that again.”

“Kun-ge.” Xiaojun says slowly, face breaking out into a smile in a moment of catharsis. 

“ _Oh my god_ , Kun-ge!” 

Kun’s grinning back like a goddamn fool, face flushing with happiness. “Oh my god, Xiaojun I knew it. It was you this entire time.” He pulls Xiaojun into a hug. “You’re the reason why I was able to get my memories back.” 

Xiaojun stares wide-eyed into the wall in front of him as he hugs Kun back. “Wait, it was me?” 

Kun breaks the hug, grabbing onto Xiaojun’s shoulders and locking eye contact with him. “Yes you silly dino, haven’t you noticed how everything started changing once you arrived? It’s you. You’re the key we needed to break out of his prison.” 

“Kun-ge, what am I going to do now?” Xiaojun says, face falling again. “How am I going to save the rest of you guys?” 

“You need to unlock the rest of your memories, just like how you remembered me. When you resurface, you need to find a PASIV again or do whatever you did to remember the first time.” Kun explains gently. “We’ll find a way to get all of us out of here. Together.” 

Xiaojun’s heart and soul swells with confidence as he looks at Kun. 

“Together.” 

The techno bass cuts through their conversation as the dream crumbles around Xiaojun. 

✧✧✧

“Xiaojun.” The Woman’s voice is sickly sweet when Xiaojun resurfaces. Her face suddenly distorts into the monstrously grotesque visage that Xiaojun remembers from his first night. “You’ve been a bad, bad boy.” 

She gives no warning before she lunges forward, swiping at Xiaojun with big clawed hands. Xiaojun clearly hasn’t learned his lesson from the first time and makes a mad dash out of the room, running as fast as he can down the hallway. 

“Oh Xiaojun~” The Woman snarls, hot on his trail. “You can’t outrun me, Xiaojun.” 

Xiaojun rounds a corner when The Woman extends one of her arms, long enough to grab at Xiaojun’s waist and send him tumbling backwards. He grunts as he makes contact with the ground, but this time he rebounds immediately, springing back up onto his feet. 

Regaining his memories must have somehow meant he remembered his years of self-defense and hapkido training, because Xiaojun manages to dodge all of The Woman’s punches. She curses angrily, quickly becoming impatient. Her anger is muddying her technique, causing her to become much sloppier with her attacks. 

His hapkido must’ve _really_ kicked in all at once when Xiaojun manages to grab ahold of her and throw her against the ground, effectively immobilizing her. She shrieks in pain, and for a split second the monstrous visage slips back to reveal her regular humanoid face. Xiaojun’s got one knee against her chest, pinning her down to the floor as he wraps his hands around her throat. The Woman violently trashes beneath him, growling at Xiaojun and making futile attempts to claw at his arms. 

“You’ll regret this, Xiao Dejun.” Her voice is garbled as she wheezes through his chokehold. “You don’t know what you’ve just awakened.” 

He snaps her neck cleanly. Xiaojun looks down at shock as The Woman’s limp corpse. 

_I killed her._

In any other situation, Xiaojun may have lingered and felt a little guilty about what he just did, but in this scenario, he knows that time is of the essence. He can’t dawdle for any longer. 

Xiaojun sprints through the hallways back to the room with the PASIV. His lungs are burning and his muscles ache when he stumbles back into the room but he couldn’t care less. He fumbles the PASIV open and solely relies on muscle memory as he works the device, sliding the IV line into his forearm as he sits down on a chair. 

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, “here goes nothing.” 

He presses the button in the middle, hearing the hissing noise as he slips back into his dream. 


	10. +SEOUL 1000

His first official extraction job is a success. 

Dejun’s high off the adrenaline of everything going perfectly as planned when he steps back into his room, freezing in his tracks when he sees Yangyang already in his room. 

“Dejun.” Yangyang gasps, eyes wide as if he can’t believe it’s really him. “Dejun, is that you?” 

“Yangyang.” Dejun croaks, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty. His heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. “Yangyang, it’s me.” 

Yangyang’s hands move to cover his mouth, on the verge of spilling with tears. His expression suddenly shifts into something defensive and sharp as he smacks Dejun on the side, not hard enough to hurt but just enough for Dejun to wince. “Christ, Dejun. You scared the living shit out of me when you left. I had no idea where you went and I thought you  _ died _ .” He sighs, running a hand over his face, and for the first time Xiaojun can see just how exhausted he is. Underneath the surface is a tired, broken man. 

“I missed you so much.” Yangyang murmurs under his breath, eyes watery again. There’s an unspoken  _ please don’t ever do that again _ trailing behind his words. 

Dejun opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He wishes desperately that he could explain to Yangyang why he was gone, tell him everything about dream share and extraction, but he just can’t. Not just for his safety but for Yangyang’s as well. An awful feeling washes over him.  _ He  _ made Yangyang feel like this, made Yangyang worried sick about his well being

“I missed you even more.” Dejun replies softly. “I’m sorry, Yangyang.” 

They end up fucking on Dejun’s bed — they switch things up for the first time when Yangyang fucks Dejun, fucking him like it’s the last time he’s going to see Dejun. Yangyang flops onto his back beside Dejun when they finally both cum, catching their breaths. He looks over at Dejun, smiling softly. 

“Hey, Dejun.”

“Huh?”

“I love you.” It’s simple and honest, completely catching Dejun off guard. 

Dejun blushes furiously. “You fucking sap.” 

Yangyang smirks, shrugging. “What can I say? That’s my specialty.” 

“I love you too.”

“Huh?” It’s cute to catch Yangyang off guard for once, watching the way his eyes widen and mouth form a pretty little “o” shape. Dejun gets up, straddling Yangyang’s waist and pressing a kiss to his mouth. He entwines their fingers together, kissing Yangyang’s forehead. 

“C’mon let’s sleep for now. We’ve both had long days.” 

Dejun officially drops out of university a few days later. 

✦✦✦

Dong Sicheng is the next addition to their ragtag group of dream misfits. 

“So he’s a chemist? What do we need a chemist for?” 

“Well, the jobs we’ve done so far have been pretty simple. One layer dreams: we easily extract the information we need and go.” Ten explains. “However, we’re going to be dealing with much more complex jobs in the future that require multiple layers within a dream.” 

“When the information is hidden more deeply within the subconscious, right?”

“Exactly.” Ten grins, pointing his pen at him. “You got it, Dejunie. Anyways, when we deal with increasingly complex dreams, the slightest external disturbance could cause the dream to collapse. Which is why we need a powerful sedative.” 

Dejun frowns. “Don’t we already have somnacin?” 

Ten shakes his head. “Those kinds of dreams needs a more powerful sedative. Somnacin is already pretty hard to come across, since it’s technically illegal. Coming across a perfectly crafted sedative fit for specific jobs is even harder to come across. Which is where a chemist comes in.” 

Dong Sicheng, is in colloquial terms, fucking brilliant. 

“Nice to meet you.” Sicheng says, smiling prettily at Dejun. “I’m Sicheng.” 

“ _ WINWIN! _ ” Ten hollers from across the room. Kun scolds him which only causes Ten to laugh harder. 

“Winwin?” Dejun laughs a little. “I’m Dejun.” 

Sicheng rolls his eyes, but still manages to make such a simple action look incredibly elegant. “Ignore Ten. It’s an old nickname I used to have back in university.” 

“Oh, did you know Kun-ge and Ten-ge back in university?” Sicheng nods. 

“The three of us were such a riot. We were all studying completely different things, who knew we’d all end up in the same industry as international criminals?” 

Dejun immediately decides that he likes Sicheng a lot. 

He’s got a long list of qualifications behind him, but Dejun thinks those qualifications are small potatoes compared to how vast and knowledgeable Sicheng’s mind is. Sicheng exudes wisdom and elegance, holding himself in a way that makes it seem like he’s lived through several lifetimes already. He makes any topic sound interesting when he rambles on about different quantum theories for hours, trading funny scientific jokes with Kun. Sicheng is multifaceted in the sense that he still holds a lot of playful youth inside him, never missing an opportunity to do a quick little dance break with Ten in the middle of their warehouse. He livens the mood and everyone is undeniably in love with him. 

Sicheng fits perfectly into their little found family, slotting himself in as if there was always meant to be a place for him. He doesn’t live with them, rather, shares an apartment with his boyfriend Yuta, but he still spends a lot of time over at their place. 

Not every job requires a chemist, but they find a way to always include Sicheng. He’s part of their package deal: you either take him or you take none of them at all. 

✦✦✦

“The news keeps talking about this Red Force.” Kun says, frowning as he flips a page in the daily newspaper because  _ of course  _ he gets the newspaper delivered to their doorstep every single day. “Should we be worried about them?” 

“What was that, honey?” Ten asks, walking into the kitchen whilst towelling off his hair. Dejun’s sitting at the table with Kun, eating a bowl of fried rice. 

“Red Force.” Dejun parrots. “I read about them online. They’re a mutant terrorist group and no one really knows where they came from. They started underground but have been gaining a lot of power, really quickly.” He takes a big bite of fried rice. “I’d be worried if I were you.” 

Ten snorts, pulling up a chair. “ _ Mutants _ . Sounds like something straight out of a science fiction novel.” Kun fixes him with a deadpan look.

“Darling, you do realize we intrude into people’s dreams to steal their secrets for a living?” 

Ten sniffs. “Touche.” 

They drop the topic after that and don’t bring it up again. 

✦✦✦

Wong Yukhei is the last addition to their team. Everyone swoons when he enters the warehouse for the first time, warmly greeting everyone with a personalized puppy-hug. 

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know I don’t have a specialized job title but I’m glad to be working with you all. Hope I can be of great assistance.” 

“Nonsense.” Kun retorts, shaking his head. “You’re very important, Yukhei.” 

Their team has begun to pick up quite a prestigious reputation in the dream sharing community, and as a result, they no longer take simple extraction jobs. They either work with high-level corporate espionage or they work with nothing. Problem is, most of the people they’ve been hired to extract have heavily militarized minds. Wealthy celebrities and businessmen will pay retired extractors to train their mind and protect themselves from being extracted from. Their subconscious projections become armed with the highest grade of military weaponry, ready to shoot and kill any extraction teams. 

Dejun winces at the last job they took on, where he narrowly missed a round of bullets to the chest. Their four-person team is impressive enough, but they need extra manpower just in case a job goes astray. 

That’s where Yukhei comes in. He’s 183 centimeters of muscle and strength wrapped up with a big, puppy-dog smile. Everyone falls in love with him because it’s physically possible not to love Wong Yukhei, and he too, finds his place amongst their tight-knit team. 

Dejun sadly looks down at his phone as Yukhei’s chatting with Sicheng about something, trying to come up with a response to the funny .gif that Yangyang sent him. 

Things just aren’t the same between them anymore. Sure, they have the occasional hookup, but they’re starting to be spaced out further and further apart from one another. Dejun’s schedule has become more packed with the increasing complexity of their jobs, not to mention the mental toll dream sharing takes on him. He simply no longer can find time for Yangyang. 

Besides, Dejun still hasn’t given Yangyang a straight answer as to why he dropped out. 

Dejun sighs, he feels bad about all this,  _ he really does, _ but at the same time he has no idea what to do. 

He settles for responding with a couple crying laughing emojis. 

✦✦✦

He should’ve known it was going to happen eventually. 

The job isn’t a failure, but their identities are compromised. Kun orders them all to evacuate Seoul and lay low in another country for a few months. 

“Does that mean ...” 

Kun sighs sadly. “I’m sorry Dejun, but yes. You have to cut all contact with Yangyang from now on.” 

Dejun goes back to Guangdong, renting out a shitty one-bedroom apartment and keeps quiet until Kun says it’s safe for them to all congregate again. 

Yangyang never sees him again. 

That is, until a few years later when they need a new forger. 

His world drowns out in an ocean of neon when they reconnect.


	11. FACILITY 1000 1011 111 10100 10110

Xiaojun’s still seeing faint tinges of neon in his vision when the timer on the PASIV runs out and he resurfaces back to reality. He nearly jumps out of his seat when he notices that there’s someone else in the room now, mysteriously looking at him. 

The stranger’s hair is a stark white with the slightest hint of gray. He’s dressed in a jacket made out of a shiny vinyl material and the world’s tightest black jeans while a delicate chain loops around his neck. There’s another chain bisecting the delicate planes of his face, covering a thin red scar. He’s menacingly gorgeous. 

“So this is the rascal that everyone’s been talking about.” 

Xiaojun narrows his eyes, tearing the IV line out of his arm. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m Baëkhyun.” He reaches across the table and grabs the collar of Xiaojun’s shirt. “And _you_ need to be punished.” 

Baëkhyun moves faster than the speed of light, so that Xiaojun doesn’t even notice a punch is coming his way until Baëkhyun’s fist makes contact with the side of his cheek, sending him toppling onto the floor. Xiaojun groans in pain as he attempts to get up, but Baëkhyun is faster. He digs the heel of his boot into Xiaojun’s stomach before giving him a good kick in the ribs, sending Xiaojun curling in on himself. 

“Not so powerful now, are we?” Baëkhyun grins, crouching down beside Xiaojun’s body. 

“Lights out.” He snaps his fingers and suddenly, Xiaojun can’t see anymore. 

✧✧✧

Xiaojun’s vision returns to him when he’s thrown into a chair, slumping forward against the metal table in front of him. 

Baëkhyun dusts his hands off, walking to the center of the room. “That’s the last one.” 

Xiaojun looks up and is startled when he sees Kun, Winwin, and Lucas. In the flesh. It feels so strange to see them all in one room together after only previously meeting them one-on-one. None of them seem particularly thrilled to be here. Xiaojun then ponders where they were all this time, where their bodies were stored in the facility when he met them in their dreams. He catches Kun’s gaze and a small smile forms on Kun’s mouth. Xiaojun smiles back, feeling a little more comforted knowing that Kun is here with him. He surveys the rest of the room and —

— Oh. 

His heartbeat nearly triples in speed when he spots Yangyang sitting at the end of the table, making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with the rest of them. Yangyang’s wearing the same facility provided attire as the rest of them, an orange shirt and black pants, but his hair: it’s caramel brown but has blonde highlights in his bangs. 

Simplistic yet striking. Xiaojun thinks the hairstyle suits him, but doesn’t say anything. 

He then notices that there’s metal trays placed in front of all them. A glass of water and two pills rest on the tray, the exact same as he saw in Winwin’s dream. 

“Since there’s been a slight _bug_ in our system, how about I make things simple for you, hm?” Baëkhyun gestures to the pills laid out in front of them. “Two choices. The blue pill will allow you to awaken the world, to have the ability to leave the facility. The yellow pill will give you the _luxury,_ ” Baëkhyun sure takes care to croon out the word, “of remaining complacent. You’ll remain here but we’ll send you to a nicer place. Perhaps you can live in a pleasant dream for the rest of your life. Simple as that.” 

He leans in, smirking. “Oh, and there’s a bonus layer to all this. You guys all have to choose the same option for it to happen.” 

Xiaojun resists the urge to scowl. What a fucking scam. 

“So what will it be, boys? Awaken the world or remain complacent?” 

Kun takes the blue pill without hesitation. Xiaojun follows suit, drinking some water to help the pill go down easier. Winwin and Lucas don’t need too much time to make a decision either, both taking the blue pill. Xiaojun exhales a sigh of relief. One more. 

Yangyang seems to have the hardest time, frowning at the two options in front of him.

“Looks like we have an indecisive one.” Baëkhyun playfully comments. “What will it be? 

Yangyang smiles, _actually fucking smiles_ up at Baëkhyun. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pops the yellow pill in his mouth, swallowing it dry. 

Xiaojun’s stomach drops. He glances over at Kun, who equally looks as shocked as he is. 

“Well.” Baëkhyun smirks. “I guess none of you are fucking leaving.” 

✧✧✧

Xiaojun’s thrown back into his cell. He doesn’t know what happens to the rest of them, but he can’t stop thinking about what Yangyang did. He’s furious and angry and wants to know why Yangyang jeopardized all of their lives, just like that. 

Every second waiting in his cell is a second wasted. A second he could’ve used to save his friends. He reaches his breaking point and starts to strategize, coming up with a plan to get all of them out of here. The main challenge will be finding a way to talk to Yangyang. 

His plan solely hinges on the assumption that Yixing will be willing to help him. He studies how the lock on his door works for a few days, and comes up with a couple ways on how he can break through the number pad lock. After a few failed trials, Xiaojun finally manages to break out of his cell. 

He makes a beeline straight for the medic bay, quietly navigating through the hallway and keeping an eye out for the security cameras while he prays that Yixing will be there. 

“Xiaojun?” 

_Bingo._ Yixing looks startled. “Xiaojun, you shouldn’t be here.” 

Xiaojun is desperate. “Yixing, I need your help. You need to help me get a PASIV so I can talk to Yangyang.” He looks off to the side. “I’m trying to break us all out of here and I need you to help me.” 

“Okay.” Yixing says firmly, catching Xiaojun a little off guard. “I’ll help. But you have to be quick.” 

“Gotcha.” 

Yixing bends down, opening a cabinet at the bottom of a shelf and pulling out a shiny briefcase. Xiaojun lies down on one of the beds, sliding his sleeve up to prepare for the IV tube. 

“Be safe, okay?” Yixing says gently. “Yangyang is _very_ deep in the dream.” 

“How deep?” 

Yixing pauses, hesitating. “Xiaojun, he’s in limbo.”

_Limbo. Infinite raw subconscious. A place where the dreamer can manifest their deepest desires. A place where your brain could turn to scrambled eggs._

Xiaojun swallows. “I’ll find him and bring him back.” He says, sounding a lot more confident than he feels. 

“I’m not joking about this, Xiaojun. You’ve never experienced limbo. You don’t know what it’s like down there and you can easily get trapped.” 

“I’ll be fine Yixing.” Xiaojun holds onto Yixing’s shoulder. “I promise.” 

“Okay.” 

✧✧✧

Kun’s layer of the dream is drastically different than Xiaojun remembered. 

Kun’s dreamt up an airport, bustling with life and energy. Crowds of people move around the place, some people are running to catch flights, others are stragglers who’ve missed their’s and are frantically trying to find an alternate way back home. Fragrant smells wafting from the many food shops sprinkled throughout the place combine to form a gorgeous medley of spices and sweet smelling candy. It’s a fiesta of vibrant colour for the mind to behold and barely resembles the mental asylum Kun used to be trapped in. 

“Kun-ge!” Xiaojun runs up to where Kun’s sitting on an airport bench, reading a magazine about brain games. He looks up, smiling when he sees Xiaojun. Kun’s now wearing a bespoke suit and his hair has returned to its usual brown colour. 

“Xiaojun!”

“This looks really nice.” Xiaojun says, gesturing to everything that’s around them. “A lot less drab and clinical as before.” 

Kun’s expression suddenly turns very sour. “If we’re going to stay here forever because of Yangyang, might as well enjoy it, right?” He bitterly mumbles. 

“That’s what I’m here for. I need to go deep into the dream to find Yangyang and convince him to leave. Then I’ll break us all out of here.” 

“Hold on just a second. You do realize what it means to chase after Yangyang, do you?”

“Yeah. Limbo.”

Kun’s eyes light up a little. “Did Ten tell you that?” 

“No, I still haven’t found him yet.” 

Kun frowns. “Xiaojun, we can’t get out if we don’t find Ten.” 

“I promise we’ll find Ten in time. I just have to get to Yangyang first.” 

Kun purses his lips together before sighing. 

“Alright. Be safe, Xiaojun.”

✧✧✧

Xiaojun’s a little surprised to find Winwin sitting in a beat up car outside of a red brick warehouse. The windows are all smashed in and there's a lattice of cracks all over the windshield. He’s wearing a strange jean ensemble with a touch too much fringe. 

“ _This_ is your dream?” Xiaojun says in lieu of a greeting. 

Winwin laughs, shrugging. “I like it. It’s nice.” There’s vitality and mirth in him that he didn’t have before, a rosiness to his cheeks that lights up his entire face. Xiaojun smiles, thinking about how Winwin must’ve gotten some of his memories back too. 

“I’m going deeper into the dream to find Yangyang. And then I’ll free us all.” 

Xiaojun can see the gears turning in Winwin’s mind as he nods slowly. He’s always liked that quality about him, Winwin’s quiet and thoughtful intelligence, the way he easily analyzes any situation. He must sense that Kun’s already told Xiaojun what needs to be said and wastes no time in pulling out a PASIV from the trunk of his beat up car. 

✧✧✧

Lucas wastes even less time. His dream is a vast desert, piles of sand for as far as the eye can see. It’s a barren wasteland and sweltering hot. Xiaojun doesn’t know why Lucas has chosen this as his dream until Lucas comes driving in a massive armoured tank, practically appearing out of thin air. 

“Xiaojun!” He cheerfully greets, stepping out of the tank. Xiaojun opens his mouth to speak but Lucas shakes his head. “I know why you’re here. I could sense it from the tension in the room when Yangyang didn’t make the right decision.” 

Xiaojun grins. Lucas’ exceptional interpersonal skills to the rescue. 

✧✧✧

Yangyang’s dream is very familiar. 

Xiaojun wakes up in a room entirely made from concrete. Every inch of the room is covered in scribbles in vibrant colours spanning from all sides of the rainbow. Some of them shine luminescent, appearing eyestrainingly neon in broad daylight. In the center of it all is the man behind the madness. 

_These were what all my visions were alluding to._

His heart lodges itself in his throat when he sees Yangyang, a heady rush of emotions suddenly flowing through his body and settling in his stomach. He’s nervous to approach Yangyang, who’s now dressed in what appears to be an oversized jersey and black pants with a flame motif on them. 

He doesn’t look anything like the Yangyang he knew. 

The sound of felt tip against concrete cuts through the silence, and Xiaojun watches as Yangyang scribbles words and images onto the walls around him. If he’s noticed Xiaojun’s presence, he clearly isn’t making an effort to show it. 

“Yangyang?” He tries. 

Yangyang halts in his movements, marker still pressed up against the wall. He turns his head back to look at Xiaojun but all his actions are jerky and robotic. 

It’s beginning to scare Xiaojun a little. 

“What do you want?” Yangyang smiles sweetly. “Oh, I know, you want me to leave with you. You think that there’s a possibility of us escaping, don’t you, _Xiaojun?_ ” The way he says Xiaojun’s name is enough to send shivers down his spine. He stops to laugh loudly, a loud and empty noise devoid of any actual joy. “Well _let me tell you, Xiaojun,_ that there is no hope here. We’re trapped here forever.” 

“I disagree. There’s always hope.” 

Yangyang laughs louder this time, bordering on maniacal. “Oh Xiaojun, you’re such a riot. I’ve never heard someone say something funnier than _hope._ ” He spits out the word like it’s dirtying his mouth just by saying. “The Red Force has done nothing but instill false hope within us because they know we’ll cling onto it like pathetic lab rats who think they’ll still have a chance at survival. Hope has done nothing but destroy me from within.” 

“There’s still a way for us to overcome the Red Force.”

Yangyang cocks his head to the side, eyes peering wide back at Xiaojun as if he’s searching his face for secrets. “Oh really?” He says softly, dropping his marker onto the ground. “Do you want to know how we all ended up here in the first place?” 

Xiaojun sighs. “Our first and last extraction job together, right? Winwin made a deal with the Red Force in an attempt to save us, and we ended here.” 

“Winwin may have made the mistake of making a deal, but the truth is that the Red Force had their eye on us for a long time.” Yangyang rolls his eyes. “Well, _your_ team before I joined at the last minute. In their eyes, all of you are more precious than any of their soldiers. Think about it, you guys can steal anything from people’s minds. You were even closer to learning how to plant ideas into people’s minds, too.” 

Xiaojun inhales sharply. “How do you know all this?” 

Yangyang laughs bitterly. “I tracked you down for two years after you left. I wanted to know what you were getting up to, and coincidentally stumbled into discovering that the Red Force had their eyes on all of you. They brought you here to completely break your morale. To turn you into their devout followers and help them manipulate the world into their bidding.” 

Xiaojun’s face falls. “You went into forgery because of me?” 

Yangyang jerkily moves his head away. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Why?” 

“It brings back too many memories. It turns me soft inside.” 

“I love you.” Xiaojun blurts out before he can stop himself. 

Yangyang’s eyes flash red. “What did you just say?

“Yangyang, I fucked up.” Xiaojun slumps against the wall. “I regret the way I left you, every single day of my life. I remember seeing you again during our first and final mission together and thinking we had a chance. Thinking that we could finally do what I was too cowardly to do all those years ago.” He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. “I never told you about what I did because I knew that would make you a vulnerable target. It just wouldn’t rest easy on my conscience knowing that I did that to you.” 

“You still hurt me.” Yangyang’s eyes flash with pain. “How can I know you won’t hurt me again?” 

“Things ended for us before we even got a chance. If we leave this mind prison, I’ll at least have the opportunity to make things better between us.” 

Yangyang’s lip quivers. “Show me you mean it.” 

Xiaojun steps forward, gently taking Yangyang’s face in his hands and kisses him like he means it. He injects as much love and pure affection as he can into the kiss, thinking about all the time they spent together, about how naive he once was and the bottomless regret he felt about treating Yangyang like that. Xiaojun thinks hard about what Yangyang means to him, how much he’d sacrifice for him now and conveys it through his kiss. 

It’s a moment of sheer catharsis for the two of them: Xiaojun confronting the regret that he never wanted to deal with, the painful emotions he kept locked away and ignored when Yangyang came back into his life. Yangyang dealing with the emotions that were always there in plain sight, his stubbornness to forgive Xiaojun despite recognizing Xiaojun _had_ changed when they met again, two years later. 

Those were the feelings that the Red Force capitalized on to keep them trapped within. 

They had been ready for this all along. Their minds had just been lost inside a labyrinth. 

A labyrinth they could’ve easily escaped had they worked together from the start. 

Slowly the world unfurls around them, concrete walls toppling over like the walls of a box to reveal Xiaojun’s bedroom. 

The neon haze around his eyes finally subsides into something cream coloured.

“We could have this together.” 

Yangyang’s crying, tears streaming down his face. “Let’s get out of here together.” 

He shoots himself in the head to wake him up. 

✧✧✧

“We’ve gotta get out of here.” Xiaojun says when he resurfaces, tugging out the IV line from his forearm. “Everyone shot themselves to wake up. Do you know where they all are?” 

Yixing nods. “Follow me, but we have to be careful. Security knows you’re gone and is going to run us down hard.” 

They’re racing against the clock now. 

Yixing leads him to a secret elevator, cautiously looking both ways down the hallway before taking the elevator down to the basement level. He swipes a red card past a security sensor, door immediately opening for him as they enter a separate medic bay. 

Xiaojun’s eyes widen when he spots all the members of his team in hospital beds, each slowly waking up. He frowns. 

All of his team members except for Ten.

He frantically turns to Yixing. “There’s someone missing.” 

“Who?”

“Ten. I can’t find him.” 

Yixing grins. “Really?” 

Xiaojun suddenly feels a wave of anger overtake him, followed by subsequent dread.

_Had he been tricked?_

_Oh god._

“Yixing, cut the crap. Right now is not the time to be joking around with me.”

Yixing laughs again. 

“For someone so smart, Xiaojun, you’re awfully unperceptive.” 

His heart nearly sinks to the bottom of his feet. His vision starts clouding until he’s dizzy and he can’t stand anymore. 

“Look again Xiaojun. Look _harder_.” 

Yixing’s reflection catches in one of the mirrors, but the face reflected isn’t his.

Xiaojun’s heart nearly stops when he recognizes him.

_Ten’s face is in the reflection._

He looks back at Yixing —

— his face dissipates. 

Ten is standing in front of him. 

Xiaojun chokes on his words, babbling incoherently. 

“ _You FORGED Yixing this entire time?”_

Ten winks. “I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve that you don’t know about.” 

“Wait, what happened to the real Yixing then?”

Ten shrugs. “I killed him. Took his place because I knew it was the only way to get closer to you.”

Realization suddenly dawns on Xiaojun. 

“Wait, but then that means —”

The walls of the medic bay begin closing in on themselves, creaking and crumbling. 

“No.” Xiaojun gasps. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

The dream is collapsing. 

“We’re still in a dream.” Ten says, right before he procures a gun from thin air and shoots all of them between the eyes. 


	12. +1

Dejun groggily awakens, head ringing with pain as his eyes adjust to his surroundings. 

They’re in a dreaming den of some kind, in which all of them are sleeping on hospital beds. The IV lines all run to a single PASIV device in the middle. The room is lit with a warm coloured light, casting everything in an ambient glow. 

“Dejun.” Ten’s voice snaps him into reality. “We’re still not out yet.” Ten’s ripping the IV line out of his arm, smacking Kun and the others to wake up more quickly. He watches the way Kun and Ten quietly exchange a kiss, Kun’s fingers wrapping around Ten’s bicep as if to never let him go. 

Dejun swings his feet off the side of the bed and slowly stands up, only to find that his legs feel wobbly from disuse. To his right, Sicheng is gaining consciousness, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Yukhei is on his left, stretching his arms over his head and standing up. 

“Sicheng!” Dejun exclaims, feeling the name roll smoothly off his tongue. “Yukhei!” 

Despite the fact the clock is still ticking with every passing second, they take the time to indulge in a smile, saying his name back to him. That’s the only way they know they’re in the real world, and they repeat their names over and over again like mantras just to be safe. 

“Dejun.” Dejun looks up and sees Yangyang from across the room, teary-eyed. 

“Yangyang!”

Dejun opens his arms and Yangyang runs right into them, pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug. “Dejun, you’re alive,  _ thank god _ .” 

Dejun doesn’t think he’s ever heard a sweeter sound than Yangyang saying his name. 

Dejun couldn’t care less about anything else in the world. They’re finally reunited. 

Before Dejun can respond, the alarm starts blaring, an abhorrent and angry noise that reminds all of them about the gravity of the situation. Ten curses under his breath, retrieving a red security pass card from his jacket pocket. 

“C’mon guys, follow me. I know how to get out of here.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](http://twitter.com/PEGCHANGMIN)


End file.
